


How We Survive

by ChronicLegCrampSince99



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Chresker, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Resident Evil 1 Ending Rewrite, STARS Flashbacks, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 03:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicLegCrampSince99/pseuds/ChronicLegCrampSince99
Summary: Chris saves Wesker's life during the fight against Lisa Trevor, leading to the STARS Captain going with Chris instead of staying behind and causing an entirely different chain of events.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a playlist! Chapter 1s song is: How We Survive by Secrets

**How We Survive**

**A Resident Evil Fic by ChronicLegCramp-Since'99**

Pairing: Chresker

*Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to Capcom and Shinji Mikami, respectively*

* * *

Chris Redfield was sweating, his fingers sticking uncomfortably to his well-worn gloves and he was sure he was wounded, bleeding probably but with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he couldn't feel it. He was pushing against the third of four pillars, close to the sealed exit while Captain Wesker held off the monster that was the late Lisa Trevor, with only his STARS issue beretta. The bullets were all but ineffective against the hunched abomination but it was buying Chris time and that was all that mattered. Just as the pillar toppled over the side, he saw the virus-stricken thing swing its grey arms round and knock Wesker, who had been reloading, back against the next pillar. The blond slipped down, his legs falling over the edge of the platform as his arms scrabbled for purchase on the ledge, hanging on with one hand as the creature approached.

"Captain!" Chris ran forward, pulling his magnum from his holster and fired three powerful shots into the creature, aiming for the head and torso. It staggered backwards with a shriek, considerably enough for Chris to drop to his knees before his captain, setting his gun down and reaching forward. "Your hand, Captain!" His voice cracked slightly in his urgency, blood pounding in his ears. Wesker thrust his hand up to grab a hold of his marksmen's forearm as the latter's free hand reached to grip under his shoulder. He hauled Wesker up, his wide, deep blue eyes darting at Lisa Trevor's advance. The blond, half lying across Chris' legs with his own still dangling, swiftly took up the magnum and fired amazingly precisely from his awkward position. Chris relaxed fractionally as the creature wailed, flailing its sickly body around. He didn't have time to blink before Captain Wesker was forcefully pulling him up onto his feet by his forest green kevlar vest.

"Go," the blond ordered firmly, stepping towards the monster to give him room to make work of the last pillar. He didn't need to be told twice, throwing his weight against the sandy stone, palms braced. Behind him, Wesker kept the creature at bay one lethal magnum round at a time. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, disliking having his back to the enemy but he refused to risk a glance over his shoulder, instead concentrating on his own task. He had faith in his captain. With the gun thoroughly emptied into the monster, Wesker was instantly beside him, helping to shove the pillar home. They both turned at the sound of the large tomb in the centre grounding open, followed by the raising of the portcullis. Chris was yanked back a step as Lisa Trevor slumped past them, stopping at the head of the tomb.

"Mo-ther-" It called out in a scratchy, sombre voice that sent icicles up his spine, despite the comforting presence of his captain's hand still fisted in the back of his vest. They watched mutely as the creature picked up what was most likely Jessica Trevor's skull with its imprisoned hands and preceded to step off the ledge with a final, hoarse scream. To meet with death, Chris hoped. He immediately felt his stomach knot with guilt and sympathy for the poor girl and her parents, pausing in a brief moment of reflection.

He and Wesker were both panting- Chris more so- and the echoing sound was the only thing breaking the eerie silence for several seconds. He thoughtlessly retrieved his captains handgun as he spotted it forgotten about on the floor. When he turned back to Wesker, the older man was already regarding him with a faint crease at the bridge of his nose. As they swapped weapons, Chris pulling a handful of magnum rounds from a pocket on his cargo pants to reload, he wondered for the millionth time how Wesker could retain his calm facade. For it had to be a facade, he decided, no one could realistically keep a steady pulse in a situation such as this. It bothered him that even in the face of this nightmare with just the two of them here, his captain wouldn't let his guard down an inch; not even to reassure Chris that he wasn't the only one seriously spooked by it all. Then again, that's probably what made him such a faultless leader, he supposed.

"You're bleeding." Chris glanced up at Wesker's matter of fact statement, holstering his magnum. It was the first time he'd noticed that Wesker's ever-present black shades were missing as he looked into intelligent, icy blue-grey eyes.

"Huh?" He murmured vaguely but he looked down at the wound Wesker was probably referring to. Lisa Trevor had landed a long gash on him, running from his shoulder, over his collar bone and down his chest. With the adrenaline still mildly coursing through him, he couldn't help but feel more perturbed by the clean tear in his vest. Before he could shrug off any concern, his captain had pulled a first aid spray from his belt and begun to apply it along the messy wound, pushing aside the frayed material of his vest as he did so. Chris hissed faintly at the sharp sting but his attention was soon drawn to the sorry state of Wesker's navy STARS shirt around his shoulder. "What about you? Is your arm okay?" He asked with a worried frown, recalling how painful the blow that had sent Wesker flying into the pillar had looked. He was sure the blond's arm and back were already bruising up. Wesker spared his shoulder a glance before pulling out a strip of gauze and tape from the front pocket of his black vest to cover Chris' wound temporarily, until the brunette found somewhere safer to properly patch himself up.

"It's nothing I can't handle," the blond muttered in a detached tone, causing Chris to grit his teeth in response. He knew it hadn't been said in arrogance but even so it grated on his nerves, his instincts screaming for his captain to take his injuries more seriously in this precarious situation they were in.

"It would put my mind at ease if you checked over your wound, Captain," Chris said simply in a tone that suggested he knew Wesker would ignore it anyway. The blond looked Chris in the eyes once he'd put the medical tape away and the brunette was a little shaken by how much of a different person his captain looked without the damned shades. It was strange, as if now that his eyes were visible his face was more open, and yet at the same time his expression remained reserved, unreadable. Chris was angry at himself for having to drop his gaze, but it felt disrespectful somehow to look his captain in the eyes so directly. As if he was questioning his judgement- as was in his nature to do with authority figures- rather than showing his concern. He heard the blond release a short sigh and gradually lifted his gaze to see that his captain was shrugging out of his vest. Chris wordlessly armed himself with Jill's handgun, which he had found in the mansions main hall; sliding into a protective stance with the gun raised, he felt like he was doing something other than standing idly by.

Wesker had set his vest down and undone only the first few buttons of his shirt so that he could push it off his shoulder and arm to assess the damage. Chris had turned away slightly, eyes and ears sharp but he stiffened when he sent his captain a sideways glance. The majority of the blond's arm was already sickeningly dark with bruising beneath the surface grazing which thankfully, wasn't bleeding freely but was probably throbbing horribly. In their normal day to day setting, seeing his captain so badly hurt wouldn't have got to Chris- Wesker was strong and he could take it. However, here, in this graveyard of a place with Jill and Barry still missing and it having been far too long since last seeing Rebecca, Chris was filled with a hot fury that had his fingers gripping the gun in his hands so tightly they were going numb. Any one of his remaining comrades could be dead by now- practically the whole of Bravo had been given up for dead, if not actually found mauled and mutilated. All but Rebecca- and whose to say one of those reptilian, hunter-green monsters hadn't got her? Chris squeezed his eyes shut, wondering what could have possessed him to agree to splitting up with the petite rookie. One thing he knew for sure, those bastards, the ones that had caused all of this- including that snake of a traitor Enrico had warned him about- would pay for everything they'd done. They'd pay for each member of Bravo who had lost their lives, and they'd pay for Joseph too. And if Brad didn't get his chicken-ass back here, he'd better keep running! Chris' blazing blue eyes had wandered back to Wesker's injured arm, glued there during his inner-tirade but he glanced away now, sensing the blond's piercing eyes on him.

"Chris," Wesker spoke, all business and no-nonsense. "Calm. Down." He tried to comply, forcing a shaky breath out between his clenched teeth and loosening his grip on the gun minutely. He shook himself, breathing in and out through his mouth a few times. He needed to stay strong, focused on the task at hand, the investigation,  _staying alive_. Frown still fixed in place, he returned to Wesker's side, taking the roll of gauze from the latter's hand and replacing it with Jill's handgun. Wesker didn't say anything as he bandaged up his arm as quickly and efficiently as possible.

"Jill and Barry...?" He asked lowly while he worked, not looking up to gauge his captain's reaction- if there even was one.

"No sign of either of them," Wesker answered without hesitation, voice giving away nothing but seemingly more careful than usual. Chris' face remained tight with worry but he hoped it wasn't as obvious as it had been moments before. He didn't want his captain doubting his stability or capability. He'd made it this far, he wasn't going down now. "Jill and Barry are still alive, Chris. I don't need to question it because not only are they members of STARS, they are members of Alpha Team, our team, and we don't die easy. We never stop fighting, not until our dying breath. That's how we survive this. Do you understand?" Chris had tied the bandage and just been holding Wesker's arm, eyes staring down at the white material as he listened intently, taking in his captain's every word. To say he was surprised by Wesker's resonating pep talk would be an understatement. He knew the gratitude towards his captain was shining in his eyes even though he didn't look up, but in that way at least Wesker would know that his words got through. The blond always knew what to say at exactly the right time and Chris was always thankful for that.

"Understood, Captain," he replied softly. He caught himself then, just as his thumb had moved to stroke over Wesker's gauze-covered arm, his habit of physical affection on the verge of extending to his captain, in the same way his lips had automatically reverted to curling up at the corners in response to the encouraging words. He reigned himself in, glad that whether or not Wesker had noticed the subtle caress, he wasn't showing it. Having promptly released his hold on Wesker's arm and taken back Jill's gun, he opened his mouth to inform him about Enrico's dying words, face growing serious again. Something stopped him, however. He dismissed the odd drop in his stomach and wrote it off as the unease of staying too long in one place, a feeling that he'd fast grown accustomed to. The blond had slid his arm back into the sleeve of his shirt and was doing up the buttons, but his gaze was still on the brunette, expectant, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"I found Rebecca Chambers," he told him instead. "Bravo's new medic- she said she'd catch me up."

"Good," Wesker commented, tone once again inscrutable whereas it had held almost the barest hint of passion previously. "I'll investigate this area a little further."

"But-" Chris clamped his mouth shut at the warning look his captain sent him as he zipped up his vest and reached for his own beretta. Chris did not like the idea of splitting up- he had already done so with Rebecca and she had clearly fallen behind or got lost along the way. Although, thinking of the spunky girl, he realised that having one of them stay and search the area may not be such a bad idea after all, assuming she wasn't too far behind. Better to have Wesker covering her back than his. He nodded in affirmative and made his way to the mouth of the tunnel.

As he was passing by Jessica Trevor's tomb, he glimpsed something shimmer in the dim lighting of the cavern. It was a family photo sticking out from folded note paper; a letter addressed, 'To My Lisa'. Chris skimmed the first couple of sentences before tucking it away for safe-keeping- they'd need all the incriminating evidence they could get. With his gun at the ready, he walked under the archway and along the rickety, metal walkway, which creaked and whined under his army boots. He was standing on a cylindrical lift about to activate it into motion when he heard the echo of steady but swift footsteps. He spun round, aiming his gun but soon straightened up, waiting for the blond to reach him. Wesker gave Chris a nod of approval and the slight smile gracing his face for once held something that the brunette could have sworn was pride.

"For someone who has survived this nightmare since before our arrival- and where her team mates have fallen- I'm not worried about Rebecca Chambers," his captain stated smoothly as he boarded the lift in front of Chris. "We stick together from here on out. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Chris returned without missing a beat, his weary smile widening ever so slightly. Wesker was right; Rebecca had more than proved that she could handle herself- or at the very least, make a run for it. And as the lift stuttered and began ascending, carrying them who knew where, the brunette couldn't help but feel relieved to have his captain at his side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters song: Gravity by A Perfect Circle

Chris was crouched down, gloved fingers tracing the worn etchings of what looked like an eagle. The lift had taken them up to a courtyard where a large fountain was the main feature. There was a sturdy set of double doors off to the side but it was sealed shut. Expression turning thoughtful, he rose back to his feet and dug in one of the pockets on the front of his cargo pants. He could barely remember where he'd found either of them- although one had definitely been tucked away inside a book somewhere in the mansion- but as he produced the medals from his pocket, he was glad he'd kept them on him. The one with the carving of an eagle was gold, whereas the other medal was silver, bearing the image of a wolf. He crouched back down again, gently placing the corresponding medal into the hollow and withdrawing his hand slowly as a precaution that it was secure. After he straightened up, he glanced over his shoulder to watch Wesker's approach. Alpha Team's leader had been keeping his eyes peeled and scouting out the area for supplies.

"Some kind of entrance, I reckon," he said to the blond before gesturing to the medal still in his hand and the one he'd just placed. "Luckily, I have these." The smile the brunette gave his captain was tired and wary, but the latter seemed too preoccupied to acknowledge it anyway. Wesker silently handed him a blue and a green herb while storing some in a pouch on his belt for himself. Chris put his away with a faint "thanks" before making his way over to the opposite side to place the remaining medal. As he stepped back, the ground began to vibrate beneath his boots and he glanced instinctively towards his captain who seemed unfazed, merely watching the fountain as its water started draining away. Chris did the same as the decoratively engraved chunk of stone on one side divided down the middle, sliding apart like two jigsaw pieces that had been slotted together. The loud movement and tremors came to a halt and after brief hesitation, Chris followed his captain's lead by walking over to the new opening. Standing beside Wesker, he stared down at the stone, spiral staircase that would take them down to yet another lift, surrounded by nothing but a dank, lightless drop. Chris thought it looked like it descended into an abyss and a shudder went up his spine in response.

"What do you think's down there...?" He asked his captain tentatively, blue eyes that looked dark grey in the moonlight, lingering on the blackness. He sensed the blond's attention turn to him and he automatically glanced up to meet his gaze. Wesker's eyes looked washed out, ethereal almost, his slicked-back hair paler than usual with the little tuft curling against his forehead like always. The dim light was casting shadows across his angular features.

"Only one way to find out, Chris," was all he replied, holding the brunette's gaze unflinchingly. Chris thought there was a hint of challenge or something akin to it hidden in the depths of his captain's eyes but he couldn't understand why it should be there. He nodded, shrugging off the momentary confusion and edged down the staircase, stepping cautiously onto the rusted, metal lift. Wesker joined him on it and without further ado activated the controls to send them down. It came to life with a jerk before moving in a slow but rickety pace. Chris stood side by side with his captain, the quiet deafening and unnerving as they were swallowed whole by near pitch-blackness. He turned his head to see that he could still make out Wesker's features, calming him some, even if just from the reassurance that he wasn't alone. He hoped Rebecca was doing okay wherever she was and would reach them soon. If he was this on edge, he didn't want to imagine how the young rookie was dealing with everything.

Eventually coming out of his musings, he realised that his eyes were still on Wesker's face and that the latter was now regarding him also. Their gazes locked and he felt himself instantly clam up. There had already been a feeling of foreboding festering in his stomach at once again being thrust into the unknown, but the look in his captain's eyes and his own inability to look away, filled him with something else entirely. He couldn't really explain it but at the same time, it felt familiar to him, as if this wasn't the first time he and his captain had been enveloped in this kind of weird tension. He wanted to say something, anything to cut through the indescribably charged atmosphere but something in him was scared it would ruin the moment. He wasn't sure what feelings his open-book of a face was currently giving away but whatever it was, it caused Wesker's fine, golden eyebrows to pull together, wrinkling the smooth skin between them.

"...Albert?" He finally found himself murmur, using his captain's first name as he sometimes did when they went for a drink after work. He held his breath, half expecting the blond to chastise him. However, the moment was broken as the lift came to a violent, abrupt stop. Wesker had his handgun up straight away, stepping off the lift and looking around. Chris hastily followed suit, arming himself with Jill's gun. They were in some kind of underground facility, it seemed, all brightly lit pale walls, rust-orange metal framework and piping. They followed the path round to what looked like an emergency exit. A sign on the right read 'WILL NOT OPEN UNLESS UNDER 1st CLASS EMERGENCY'.

"Guess we'll be going down the ladder then," Chris muttered more to himself than Wesker, feeling stupid for avoiding eye-contact with the older man but doing it anyway. Wesker climbed down first but once Chris had cleared the ladder, he gestured wordlessly with a nod of his head for the brunette to take point. They went through a door into an L-shaped area which had the same concrete floor except for a black and grey steel catwalk in the centre. Chris paced forward light but slow, gun zeroing in on the first of two zombies. As calmly as possible, he dropped the first one with a bullet to the brain, continuing round to where the other one had stumbled into the wall, moaning in a deep, resonating timbre that got Chris' hackles up. Dispatching zombies had become quick and easy now that he'd got used to it. It was the other creatures- the ones more animalistic in appearance- that he had to watch out for. Chris felt a numb emptiness settle over his mind as he watched the blood splatter against the grimy wall, the poor soul's viscous body slumping down into a hunched over pile on the floor.

"Lab coats," he said aloud, exchanging a look with his captain.

"This must be where the outbreak happened," Wesker remarked in a neutral tone, as though it didn't really matter where the virus outbreak had started as long as it ended. Chris moved to the railing to glance down at the bottom of the staircase. A moan that was more aggressive than he was used to hearing was all that alerted him to the presence of another zombie. He spun around to see that the man-like creature had staggered round the corner on the left before it was lunging for him. The back of his legs hit the railing as he grappled with its arms, fiercely trying to fend off its filthy, gaping mouth. Wesker had been busy searching over the bodies of the first two but now he was before them, throwing Chris' attacker off him and at the wall where it smacked its head hard, hissing and growling. The brunette could have sworn he glimpsed pieces of skull and brain matter fall away from it, making his stomach turn. His captain didn't wait for it to whirl back around, simply held his beretta to its head and pulled the trigger. Chris leaned back against the railing to catch his breath, his heartbeat having spiked in the tense moment. Wesker's blue-grey eyes scanned him for fresh wounds before he simply said, "Keep your guard up" in a somewhat harsh tone and bent down to rout through the zombies pockets. Chris picked up the gun he'd dropped and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he walked over to the area the zombie had been hiding in. What was the point of having Wesker there to watch his back if he wasn't actually going to watch his back? He fumed half-heartedly, embarrassment dissipating before it had properly ignited. He found another magneto-optimal disk on a desk in the corner to add to the others he'd already acquired, holding it in his free hand for now until he had a chance to go through all the junk clogging up his pockets. There was also a pair of white doors. It seemed like there was an electrical current running through them and emitting a mild buzzing.

"The lock's electronic," Wesker stated after he'd come round the corner to join him. "We'll need to use a computer to unlock it."

"Which means we'll need a passcode," Chris agreed, groaning inwardly.

"Find anything?" Wesker inquired as he turned back towards the stairs.

"Just another MO disk."

"There are green herbs over there," his captain told him, pointing with his gun in their direction. "You'll need them." All his pockets were brimming though.

"We'll probably be back to investigate that room- I'll get them then." Chris thought he registered his captain's mouth pull down at one side, sending a cursory glance in the rooms direction but Chris pushed it out of his mind- Wesker was probably just feeling impatient; it wouldn't be the first time. He wanted to have all this done and over with, like Chris did.

It felt like it had been an age since the last time he'd worked alongside his captain like this, working as a team, as partners. He'd spent so many long hours alone while investigating the mansion and guardhouse, with only short intervals spent with Rebecca. He'd run into Wesker after killing that damned mutant plant but it was only to go their separate ways again. He wondered what his captain had been doing in his absence besides surviving, what he'd found out. Although he supposed it couldn't have been anything imperative if he hadn't been told. Wesker was sure to debrief them all once they were safe and sound back at the RPD. Chris was roused from his thoughts by an echoey moan. They'd reached the bottom of the stairs and two hallways stretched out before them. Halfway down the one straight ahead, a zombie had started to shuffle lethargically towards them. Chris tried one of the knobs of the double doors on their right, the door pushing open easily.

"Captain?" He uttered, deferring to his captain as to whether or not he should go through. Wesker split his gaze between the two paths, a calculating look in his eyes before he nodded at Chris, ushering them both through the door and closing it firmly behind them. The brunette was relieved to see that this next corridor was devoid of any undead, even as the anxiety held strong in his gut. Rubbing his free hand through his spiky hair, he reaffirmed the grip on his weapon and followed Wesker into the dark room on their immediate left. Wesker paused just inside as they waited for their eyes to adjust. They had a little help from a florescent wall light that shone over a sink next to the door. He blew out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he felt on the wall for a light switch and flicked it on. It was all stone walls and concrete just like the rest of the place and there was minimal furniture, only a desk and bookcase besides the sink. Wesker stood before a landscape painting positioned in the centre of the far wall, gun holstered for the time being. His posture seemed almost casual to Chris, but he knew that under that head of blond hair of his, he was alert, his reflexes fine-tuned.

"Doesn't seem like there's much here," he said, disappointment lacing his tongue but he was more than glad for the reprieve as well as the sight of another plotted green herb sitting on the floor beneath the painting. Even if he couldn't take it with him right now, it was good to know it was here just in case. It made him think of Rebecca- her herb combining skills were second to none where Chris could be rather clumsy. "Shouldn't be too long now..."

"For what?" It seemed that Wesker's ears had pricked up at his muttered words. He gave his captain a fleeting look before trying the tap at the sink. Water ran clean but he wasn't about to risk using it here in this viral place.

"'Till Rebecca finds us," he answered absently, looking at his rough reflection in the mirror. There were a few smudges of dirt on his creamy skin and he thought some of it looked like dots of blood too. He grimaced, rubbing at the dirt a bit with the back of his hand. He could feel the blond's gaze on him but since he didn't appear to be planning on replying, he moved his attention to the desk. He had the urge to sit down on the chair and rest his sore limbs a little but he discarded it, reaching for the letter that lay abandoned on the desk. It was dated June 8th; addressed 'Dear Ada' and signed 'Yours, John'. A scientist's letter to his wife or girlfriend perhaps? He wondered if this man had told his love the truth about what he'd been helping do here, but he doubted it. Fat chance anyone would stick around after hearing about any of these inhumane experiments.

John was talking about how he'd tested himself for the virus and it had come back positive, going on to reassure Ada that she wasn't infected. Chris' breath caught as he read on. '...Make all this public through the media.' So John wanted to do the right thing. '-If you find me completely changed, please kill me yourself.'

"Poor bastard," Chris muttered gravely, hoping that if Ada had come looking for her man that she made it out alive. He supposed she might only now be getting worried, but even if she did turn up, the laboratory and mansion would no longer be left standing by then. Best to take the letter with them, he thought, for reference to the passwords and codes it contained. He didn't deny the guilt he felt at the scientist's girl never getting to read her boyfriend's dying words, but at least it hadn't been a sentimental goodbye.

"John and Ada..." Chris visibly jumped at the deep voice and breath beside his left ear. Wesker was reading the letter over his shoulder, a spark of what seemed like curiosity in his eyes. The brunette turned his gaze down once again and stared through the paper in his hands, distracted by his captain's light, steady breath against his neck. Wesker's proximity was so that he could feel the warmth radiating from his body and it was stifling in a way that had the brunette stilling, lungs growing tight in his chest. "Some kind of ancient runic code..."

"It's not Greek?" He asked, the clearing of his throat unavoidably audible in the quiet room. When Wesker didn't answer, he lifted his nervous blue gaze to see that his captain was watching him out of the corner of his eye with a knowing look.

"I'm familiar with the Greek alphabet, this is definitely something else," the blond finally answered, ever-closed expression thoughtful for a change as he went back to studying the rune symbols at the bottom of the page. After another awkward moment for Chris, he shifted, passing the paper into his captain's hands as peaceably as he could manage before returning to the sink.

"Well, I suppose it's as good a time as any to give our wounds a proper once over." His tone was nonchalant, even as he breathed in deeply, feeling a surge of relief at the space put between he and his captain.

"You do that," he heard Wesker murmur in vague agreement. "While I solve this little puzzle." Chris took off his green vest, pausing for only a heartbeat before pulling his cream under shirt over his head. He had a lot more bruises and scrapes tainting the skin of his torso than he would have guessed. He could see the wide-spaced puncture wounds on his side from that damned, giant snake he'd battled with. If Rebecca hadn't found him, he'd be dead. When they got out of here, he'd have to buy the medic a beer. Gingerly removing Wesker's temporary strip of gauze, he inspected the long gash he'd received from Lisa Trevor. It didn't look pretty but thankfully, the bleeding had stopped and it didn't seem like it had got infected.

"Got anything left in that can?" He called over to Wesker, glancing back to where the man in question was standing hands on hips, in front of the bookcase. The blond wordlessly removed the first aid spray from his belt and tossed it over. Chris caught it effortlessly with a quiet "thanks" before he started spraying along his wound, requiring its antiseptic properties more than pain relief. He didn't use very much, the need to conserve their supplies a constant at the forefront of his mind. At the sound of wood scraping against ground, he set down the spray and turned around, leaning back against the sink. Wesker was pushing aside the dusty, worn bookcase, using his left shoulder and arm instead of his injured one. Once the blond had straightened up, he saw that the piece of furniture had been concealing a second switch on the wall. Wesker looked it over briefly before turning it on. The rooms lighting tinted blue as a result, bugging the brunette's eyes and making him wince. Blinking, he followed his captain's gaze to the painting; Wesker walked over to examine it and Chris wandered over to join him. Previously, it had had labels made up of ancient symbols but now that the blue filter was in effect, the words visible were plain old English. 'Tree', 'Man', 'Apple', 'Woman'.

"Another piece of the puzzle," the brunette commented as he failed to make a connection between the clues.

"The final piece," his captain returned, tapping his finger against his lips in what appeared to be deep concentration. "Maybe you should have a go at figuring it out, Chris."

"You already have?" Chris turned to him in surprise, eyebrows raised. The corner of Wesker's mouth pulling up into a half-smirk was all the answer the brunette needed. "I don't even wanna know how you figured that out so fast."

"Maybe I already knew the answer," his captain dead-panned, but Chris just shook his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Come on, we'd better get that wound bandaged up."

He kept his eyes trained on Wesker's vest, leaning casually against the sink as the latter wrapped gauze around his bare torso and under his shoulder. The blond's gloved fingers rarely made contact with his skin, but whenever they did it sent a jolt to the pit of his stomach, leaving tingling sensations in their wake.

"I haven't thanked you for saving my life." He started at Wesker's serene voice disturbing the silence. Their eyes met once before he looked away, smiling faintly through his chagrin.

"You've already thanked me a thousand times over with all the times you've saved my ass," he reminded his captain softly, fighting the impulse to meet the gaze scrutinising his face.

"Even so, I feel indebted to you." Chris felt a chuckle build in his chest at the way Wesker had said it- as though the mere idea of owing somebody something filled him with great displeasure. The feeling quickly faded, however, as he was once again wrapped in guilt. He still hadn't warned his captain about the traitor, keeping crucial information to himself instead of sharing it. It seemed a shame to douse out the rare gratitude the blond was currently attempting to show him, but he had to tell him.

"Listen, Captain," he began, straightening up and clasping one of Wesker's wrists to stop his ministrations. "There's something I need to tell you..." He trailed off again, finally looking up at Wesker to meet his gaze head on; the blond was expressionless, nodding once for him to continue. "I found Vice-Captain Marini in the tunnels before I met up with you."

"Go on," Wesker prompted, returning his attention to patching him up as if what he was hearing wasn't in the least bit important. Chris took a hold of his captain's wrist again, wanting the man's undivided attention. "Is it your intention for me to never finish bandaging your wound, Chris?" He could see that his captain was fast losing his patience, but so was he. Holding his captain's wrist like this felt daring even for him; he could feel the tranquil pulse under his fingers, wondering at it whereas his own had quickened in his urgency.

"Forget about that for a second," he dismissed hotly. "This is important."

"I know, Chris."

"Yeah, it is-"

"Chris, I know there's a traitor." The brunette opened his mouth and then closed it, coming up short as he returned the blond's hard gaze.

"Wait...you already know?" He questioned with furrowed eyebrows, calming down fractionally.

"How else do you explain Bravo being lured into the mansion like they were. How else do you explain them being all but wiped out." The questions were rhetorical but it struck Chris how easily he'd missed the signs himself. He hadn't even considered the possibility until Enrico had planted the seed in his head. It was all too obvious to him now. As always though, Wesker was at least two steps ahead.

"But wait, you think they were lured here- that we were?" He continued to question, incredulous at the mere thought. Why would someone want to lure STARS out here in the first place? Was it purely to lead them to their deaths- was someone harbouring a grudge against them? Or had someone been hoping they would discover the truth behind the attacks and make it public? To out Umbrella and its cover for Bio-Weapon research and development?

"Right now, all that matters is destroying this lab," Wesker told him sternly, regaining his focus. "Everything else can wait." Chris was about to open his mouth to argue but he clenched it shut, releasing a long, laboured sigh.

"...You're right," he acquiesced eventually, letting go of Wesker so that he could finish patching him up. He glanced up after a moment. "...Captain, thank you."

"For what?" The blond responded a tad warily as he professionally tied a tight knot to keep his gauze in place.

"For coming with me," the brunette answered in a subdued voice, biting his lip and dropping his gaze. He'd hate for his captain to see the smidgen of vulnerability in his eyes.

"You almost sound like you care." His eyes flew upwards at that, the mildly teasing tone catching him off guard. Wesker had his arms crossed over his chest now and a smirk playing about his mouth.

"Hey, don't joke," he complained even as a genuine smile brightened his downcast features. "You know I care. We're STARS; we're family." Chris almost flinched when his captain reached out to cup the side of his head, the blond seeking his eye-contact and trapping it.

"Hold onto your sentiments until we're safely out of this hell-hole, Chris," Wesker told him in lowered tones, his voice soft but final. "You never know, things might look different." In a distant part of his mind, he acknowledged that Wesker was probably talking about the fact that they would know who the traitor was by then. However, at the forefront of his mind, he was hyper-aware of the close distance between them, of the warm, comforting palm against his scruffy hair, of the intensity of Wesker's worldly, blue-grey gaze on his. No one could look at him like Wesker did, with all his tightly-wound, bottled up energy and mysterious, deflecting shields. He wished that just once, his captain would raise that iron veil- lose his composure in a way other than a simple loss of temper. When the blond took back his hand and moved away to stand by the door, readying his gun, he left a chill in the air surrounding Chris. Mechanically, Chris pulled on his under shirt and vest, exchanging a near-empty clip in his gun for a full one that had been at the bottom of a crate by the sink. The tender moment they had shared replayed in his mind over and over, confusing and conflicting emotions warring in his gut for supremacy. It was as plain as day- he'd thought that Wesker might lean in and kiss him. And his throat constricted, chest ached, at the fact that he hadn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters song is: No Brakes by The Bravery

_Chris straightened abruptly from his slouched position at his desk at the squeak of a chair being pushed back. He'd been daydreaming but he was thoroughly snapped out of it by the look of disapproval his captain was sending him. The only way he could tell it was disapproval was by the slight crease at the bridge of Wesker's nose, since he kept those damn shades glued to his head at all times. Naturally, members of STARS had a bet on for what colour Wesker's eyes were but Chris, who had had the privilege of glimpsing them just once, had never told anyone. To this day he didn't know why he didn't just blab to everyone. Joseph had betted more money on it than anyone else but despite the amusement it brought him merely imagining the vehicular specialist's face crumbling into despair, he knew he'd never tell._

" _Chris, you're still here," the blond stated more than questioned as he slid his arms into a black mac. The colour made his tanned skin look paler but it complimented his looks somehow._

" _Oh, yeah," Chris replied, rubbing the side of his neck sheepishly. "Claire borrowed my bike while hers is in the shop and well, she insisted she'd pick me up..." He smiled casually as was his faces default disposition, watching Wesker stop by his desk._

" _Claire, your...sister?" His captain clarified, showing how much he paid attention to his subordinates' personal lives. Jill often joked that it was a wonder he could recall any of their names with the way he exhibited his disinterest. However, Chris had always sensed that their captain knew a lot more about them than he let on. "She's staying with you?" It was small talk, Chris knew, but for his captain to take the time to make conversation was a wonder in itself._

" _Yeah, she is," he answered fondly before deliberating for a few seconds as to whether he should go on. "She's on study leave so I guess she decided to come bother me." He paused to chuckle lightly even though the blond only spared him a small smile. "But I know she's studying her ass off when I'm not there. She's a good kid."_

" _Unlike her big brother," Wesker teased dryly, leaving Chris to scramble to school away his surprise._

" _Are you making fun of me, Captain?" He didn't even know what tone of voice he'd said that in, it had just slipped out but the blond produced a half-smirk in response, quirking an eyebrow._

" _You seem to enjoy it," Wesker retorted smoothly, causing Chris to roll his eyes, smiling all the while._

" _You are the boss, who knows what you'd do if I didn't laugh at your jokes?" His tone was playful now, any previous awkward tension easing up as he leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. Wesker had seated himself slightly on the edge of his desk and the brunette couldn't help but feel glad to see his captain in this semi loosened-up, friendly state. They gazed at one another for a moment, Chris only making out faint outlines behind the shades, while his own deep blue eyes were exposed. He could feel the atmosphere turning tense again, a strange live sensation in the air between them as their eyes lingered a tad too long on each other with neither of them speaking. Chris tried to think of something appropriate to say to break the silence, swallowing past a sharp object blocking his airways. He was saved however, by his sister's boisterous entrance._

" _Chris! I'm so sorry, the traffic was...oh." Claire had stopped mid-sentence as she belatedly registered Wesker's presence. The blond had stood up, running a slender hand through his slicked back hair. "Captain Wesker, um, hey. How are you?" Chris muffled a snort as he watched his sister subtly try to make herself more presentable; Wesker sure had that effect on people. Her wind-swept, reddish brown hair looked like she'd been dragged through a bush, despite being pulled up into a pony-tail as always._

" _Good, thank you, Miss Redfield," his captain responded politely before turning to Chris. "I'll see you in the morning, Chris." With that, he swept towards the door and out of it, barely leaving the brunette enough time to call after him._

" _'Night, Captain!"_

" _Chris! Stop flirting with your boss after hours!"_

"Claire _!"_

* * *

It was heightened emotions. It was the situation they were in. They were partnered up, stuck in this nightmare with only each other to rely on and the constant risk of one of them getting seriously hurt, or worse, killed. It was strengthening their bond, that's all, and that was a good thing. It was natural that Chris found himself sticking uncharacteristically close, shifting into a permanent protective stance ahead of his captain. He could have absolutely despised Wesker but thrust them into this environment with death nipping so closely at their heels and of course he would find himself wanting to reach out for the older man, for his reassurance. That's what he believed. It wasn't because it was Wesker- he could have been teamed up with Rebecca and he would have felt exactly the same. He really believed that. It was human nature. When you're isolated and alone- not to mention in a life and death situation- you cry out for anyone to be with you, no matter who they are or what they've done. It's a want- a  _need_ \- to have someone beside you. Chris Redfield was tough, he was brave but at this point, he wasn't going to pretend that there wasn't any fear in him. More than half of STARS were dead and that said all that needed to be said. He had enough faith and belief in himself to know that he could go it alone and survive- he'd proven it to himself and his captain back at the mansion- but when it came down to it, two was better than one. And hopefully soon, they would have three, whenever Rebecca finally showed up and put a stop to his worrying. But as of right now, Wesker was all he had and if he ever did find his hand reaching out, it was for that reason and that reason alone. Not because of any deep-rooted, complicated 'feelings'. Chris wasn't going to allow himself to believe otherwise, not when his life depended on keeping a clear head.

He was currently following closely behind Wesker down the vacant corridor that the painting room was connected to. They'd found a lab off one of the pathways in the main area that surrounded the large, blocked-off, square room in the centre. Luckily, it had housed the computer terminal they needed to unlock the many doors they planned to investigate, including the one upstairs. Apparently the password that the ancient runes had spelled out had been 'MOLE', leaving Chris wondering at the connotations. He steadied the gun in his hands as Wesker paused beside a door on the right and mutely gestured for him to go first.

Inside, the walls and floor were the same monotonous stone and concrete, but Chris didn't have time to complain even if he'd wanted to as a pair of sickly, flailing arms lunged for him. He'd pulled the trigger square between its eyes before it could touch him, side-stepping its body as it fell flat to the floor. Hearing more mournful moaning, he swiftly paced forward a step or two, another sorry creature arcing towards him with only one arm outstretched where the other was missing. The wide berth gave him ample time to aim but just as he shot, he was attacked from the side of the bookcase that had been obstructing his view, a fingerless hand knocking his gun downwards so that the bullet hit only torso. He hastily elbowed the interfering zombie out of the way while pumping a few more bullets into the other's torn up body, causing it to collapse unceremoniously.

He turned, gun still raised high to see that Wesker had despatched the zombie that had blind-sided him and had pinned a final one to the floor with his boot, putting a bullet in its brain. Chris released an inaudible sigh of relief, holstering his gun and watching as his captain looked over a table where a round, white machine sat. He had thought before that zombies were the easier to deal with, considering some of the other monstrosities that he'd come across, but get a bunch of them together like that and you could have a real problem on your hands. Especially if you didn't have back-up.

Chris suddenly cried out thrown out of his musings and into reality at the teeth sinking into his bad shoulder. He shook and elbowed the feral creature off of him, but it only gave him enough time to whirl around before its one hand was grabbing him, teeth biting inches from his face. He grappled with it, desperately reaching around his side for the last place he'd left his combat knife. Its rank breath filled his senses, causing his stomach to roil with nausea but he pushed through it, gritting his teeth and finally grasping the handle of his knife. He got a firm grip on the things neck, feeling skin flaking off and bones fast collapsing under his fingers as its head lolled back and forth. As hard and precise as he could, he pierced the blade into its head, feeling its mangy body go limp before he shoved it fiercely away from him. He was panting heavily as though he'd just done a marathon, the fresh pain in his already wounded shoulder stabbing through him. But he ignored it, spinning round to stare at Wesker, who was clearly 'busy' inspecting the books on the shelves.

"What the hell was that, Wesker?!" Chris fumed, forgetting for the moment that this was his captain he was yelling at.

"What was what?" The blond muttered, remaining preoccupied.

"You could've shot it!"

"You had it covered," Wesker responded, looking over at him with a mildly annoyed taint to his features. Chris was livid, blue eyes wide and animated and his cheeks flushed beet-red. He couldn't speak, he was that confused and angry, barely noticing the way the blond's eyes shifted and narrowed at his bleeding wound. "We just patched you up," he tutted as he walked over, like he was scolding a child who'd just muddied clean-on clothes. He pushed his captain's hands away, looking off to the side stubbornly.

"Chris." The weight of Wesker's stern gaze on him was difficult to withstand even though he wasn't meeting it and he relented ever so slightly, letting the blond unzip his green vest and pull the collar of his t-shirt aside to assess the new damage. He refused to acknowledge the way his hairs stood on end at their proximity, focusing instead on all his anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"You're supposed to have my back," he couldn't help but utter in an accusatory tone, feeling the older man's hands stiffen on his shoulder.

"You're still alive, aren't you?" Wesker retorted sarcastically, warning Chris that he was reaching the end of his tether.

"No thanks to you," the brunette bit out defiantly; it was all getting too much for him. He was fighting mental and physical fatigue- he'd barely had any time to rest and when he had, he hadn't dared close his eyes for fear of what might happen to him. When he'd partnered up with Wesker, he'd thought he wouldn't have to watch his own back quite so much but evidently, he'd been wrong about that. "You're supposed to be my captain-"

"Yes and as captain, I have utter faith and belief in all my men's abilities.  _Especially_  my best man." Chris glanced up at the clipped response, brows furrowed as he returned Wesker's unyielding gaze. "So you were caught off guard, but you weren't at a disadvantage. You only had one to contend with. If you couldn't deal with one, you wouldn't have made it this far. Just because I'm here now, working alongside you, it doesn't mean I'm going to start holding your hand, Chris. It's beyond me, why you would start doubting yourself at this point."

"I'm not doubting myself-"

"Then you're doubting me. Why?" Chris' lips parted but no words came out. He knew what it was really about but if he thought about it, it would make it real and an issue. It was the fact that not too long ago he had felt their connection strengthening, only to turn around and find his captain showing all but no concern for his well-being. He didn't want to be babied- Wesker was right, he was more than capable of taking care of himself- but the idea that he could be killed right here and now and Wesker wouldn't even bat an eye got to him bad. "What's changed, Chris? Okay, you got hurt, but you have plenty of herbs to deal with it." Despite his penchant for emphatic, rhetorical questions, Chris could tell that the blond was waiting for an actual answer from him.

"I..." He took a short breath, straightening his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Captain," he said, voice quiet but sincere, lifting a hand to squeeze Wesker's shoulder. "I was careless and I shouldn't be blaming you. I'm the reason I got hurt."

"I don't want your apologies, Chris," the blond replied strictly but his eyes had softened infinitesimally. "I need us to be on the same page." The brunette nodded tiredly, feeling disappointed in himself for his loss of temper. The situation was stressful enough without him adding to it. He wasn't going to stand here and have a breakdown, he was too strong and proud for that, regardless of what was going on with his feelings. An image of Claire crossing her arms and frowning at him floated into his mind and he stood up even straighter.

"Right," he said with a nod. "Let's get this room over with and move on." Wesker raised an eyebrow at his commanding tone but did nothing more.

"Treat your wound, while I look around." Chris complied, pulling out a green herb that had been squashed into his vest pocket. Moments of quiet passed by, filling him with a false sense of tranquillity that he refused to latch onto. Wesker was standing before a small, cubic alcove in the wall but he turned towards Chris with a piece of paper in his hands. He listened intently to Wesker's crisp voice as the latter read from the fax, carefully tending to his wound all the while. It appeared to be a report on what they called the 'T-virus outbreak', stating the number of casualties and the severity of how much the virus was likely to spread. There was also a mention of STARS and their concern about the teams and the RPD interfering. What struck Chris the most however, was that they regarded their research a 'success'.

"They call this hell proof of their success?" He questioned incredulously, glancing over for his captain's reaction.

"Well, considering they were working on creating bio-weapons..." the blond stated absently, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid as he tucked the fax away in his pocket. "Imagine, Chris, releasing a hoard of those Hunters in particular, onto your enemies. You're sure to win that battle." The brunette scowled, shaking his head but he simply fixed up his gear and moved over to the white machine on the table.

"Maybe I can upload one of the MO disks with this..." he muttered under his breath, routing around in his pockets for a disk. It worked luckily, printing off a ticket-like slip with puncher holes on the sides and a barcode at the bottom. At the top was a passcode, with a bible quote written beneath it.

'"I swear by myself," declares the Lord, "that because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, '

(Genesis 22:16)

Chris' face grew befuddled as he finished reading, wondering what the quote could possibly mean in relation to this place and its research. His eyes were drawn to the Umbrella logo. They sure had plastered their name onto every little thing in this facility, he thought; pretty stupid thing to do since it left no doubt as to who this god-forsaken place belonged to.

"Let's go, Chris."

* * *

They had made their way back up to B2 where the unlocked 'Visual Data Room' was, Chris' thoughts going over everything Wesker had said. Perhaps there had been more truth to his words than Chris had first thought. He knew that his guard had become lax since teaming up with his captain, but maybe he had loosened up too much. He had got sloppy if he was true to himself, slipping into a habit of relying on Wesker as his captain. Back at the mansion and guardhouse, he had been a captain of sorts unto himself, not knowing whether anyone else was still alive and having to look out for Rebecca with her rookie status along the way. He pondered whether he should start thinking of he and the blond more on equal grounds here. To think of them as merely two men, two survivors relying on each other in equal measures. Besides, had they been fighting against something like those reptilian monsters- the ones Wesker had pet-named 'Hunters'- the blond would surely have taken it more seriously, would have helped him out. He knew that.

"You still with me, Chris?" The brunette glanced up. They were in a wide room with a long table down the middle, its chairs turned to face the large screen positioned against the far wall. Chris also spotted a projector at that end of the table, intuition sparking in his eyes.

"Hey, Captain, wasn't there a slide reel down in that lab where the computer was?" He waited patiently for Wesker's response, looking about the room a bit. The blond had wandered further into the room than him and he glanced back with his mouth pulled down faintly on one side.  _Probably pissed I didn't bring it with me_ , Chris thought,  _but it's not like I'm made of pockets!_

"Perhaps."

"We should go get it and come back- there might be some real hard evidence on it," he suggested somewhat eagerly, despite the constant macabre cloud that seemed to hang over him now.

"Later," Wesker replied, uninterested, although he was sure his captain was thinking about all the other rooms and labs they had yet to explore. The brunette started looking through the shelving unit by the doors, finding a file about security measures. Apparently it listed the numerous rooms and areas that had restrictions placed on them as to who could and couldn't enter. The helicopter port and the passage to it were what instantly grabbed his attention, hoping that Brad was still around and trying to make contact. He could only hope those areas had been unlocked along with the other doors. There was a note about the room they were in and another beneath it for a prison section of the facility. Before he could read into it, Wesker called him over to where he was standing beside a switch on the left wall.

"Find anything?" His tone was brisk and his fine eyebrows were drawn together as he glanced at the file in Chris' hands.

"It's about the security system- it might tell us what the MO disk codes unlock," the brunette informed him, handing over the file when he gestured for it. The frown already spoiling his angular features deepened a tad before he closed the file and the displeasure disappeared altogether.

"We need to get the two remaining passcodes so that we can open the door at the end of the corridor where the painting room is," Wesker explained to Chris, holding his gaze firmly with his own. "It leads to a prison cell. There might be someone trapped down there." Chris nodded his understanding, folding his arms loosely over his chest. "It also mentioned a Power room- we should be able to find a shutdown sequence in there to level this place."

"Sounds like a plan," Chris said, flashing a grin- a weak one but one none the less. Wesker removed the papers from the file and folded them until they fitted into a pocket on his black cargo pants. Once he'd done that, he pressed the switch on the wall that he'd been examining before. They heard a loud whining and Chris turned to see a thick pillar of wall moving aside to reveal a stack of secret shelves. They exchanged a look before the brunette headed over, passing by the projector.

"Hey, there's a key here," he called back as he picked up the item. Its hard, plastic grip was black and had a red hazard symbol on it. "It must unlock one of the doors downstairs that we couldn't open."

"Then I suppose that's where we head next," Wesker remarked evenly with a nod back towards the double doors. Chris lead the way, hoping that if anything, they only had to deal with zombies in the as yet uncharted area. One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to mess up this time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters song: There, There by Radiohead

_Chris poked his head into the STARS office, hoping to find his captain still around. Sure enough, Wesker was sat at his desk despite the late hour. He entered the room and strolled over, only then noticing how the blond was leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, shades placed carelessly on top of some loose paperwork._

" _Captain...?" The brunette said almost cautiously as though he was about to disturb a wild cat. He faltered visibly when Wesker glanced up at him, lowering his hand to rest on the arm of his desk chair._

" _Chris," his captain responded in greeting, looking at him as if he wasn't the least bit bothered that his eyes were on show. Maybe he'd forgotten he wasn't wearing the damned shades. Chris was finding it difficult to formulate a coherent sentence, his mind completely distracted by the pair of what seemed like blue-grey eyes that he was gazing into. He was surprised to find out that they weren't brown, growing more confused as he mentally questioned when he'd decided that that was the colour he reckoned they were. Wesker seemed tired, he noted softly, sighing and placing a hand on his hip. The blond really shouldn't overwork himself, he silently chided, never daring to voice his concerns aloud. "Yes?" He jolted out of his reverie at the impatient prompt, seeing his captain's features creasing into the beginnings of a scowl._

" _Um, sorry, I..." He hated the way he stuttered, pausing temporarily to gather his thoughts before continuing in a light tone. "I was sent to ask if you're gonna join everyone for a drink tonight. You look like you could use one and it is Friday..." He watched as Wesker pushed up out of his chair, rolling his neck and half-heartedly cracking the muscles nestled there. The blond's expression appeared to gain a hint of contemplation before those rare greyish eyes flickered to his. Chris instinctively moved his hand to rub at the side of his neck as Wesker's striking gaze scanned his face, taking a moment to openly appraise him while he decided._

" _...I could use something other than a drink, Chris." The person in question furrowed his eyebrows, deep blue eyes held captive by his captain's. Wesker was staring at him intently, the words having been spoken in a deliberate way that he couldn't quite decipher the subtle meaning behind._

" _Oh..." he began, shifting his weight in discomfiture from being so strongly scrutinised and growing slightly disappointed. "Well, it would be nice if you came," he attempted once more for good measure before adding a hasty "No pressure, though." The blond continued to stare at him for a moment, his eyebrow slowly quirking up until he breathed out a stilted chuckle, his composure looking as though on the verge of breaking. He regained it though and Chris held back a sigh, feeling like the joke was on him but not understanding what the joke was. His captain released a sigh of his own then, shaking his head and looking back up at him, face blank once more._

" _Not this week, Chris."_

" _Okay..."_

* * *

Chris woke gradually, keeping his eyes closed for the time being and readjusting his arms behind his head. He and Wesker had unlocked a new area with the key they'd found, entering another lab where they'd had to solve another puzzle, in order to get into the blocked-off room in the centre of the main part of the facility. It had turned out to be a morgue of some kind- at least, it had looked like one- with full body bags laid out on camp-beds, lining the far wall. Maybe they had been the first victims of the outbreak...or more of Umbrella's test subjects. The room had also housed the second machine for the MO disks, leaving them with just one more code to get. The printed slip had the next part of the piece of bible scripture written on it, the gist of the two combined starting to make more sense to Chris. He had read it out to Wesker, although the latter had appeared unfazed by it.

'I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as stars in the sky, and as the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will take possession of the cities of their enemies,'

(Genesis 22:17)

Afterwards, they'd returned to the T-shaped area, entering the door straight ahead. They'd found themselves in a rest room that had a white, metal-framed bed as well as a storage box where Chris found a shotgun and shells. He didn't care to know why it had been hidden in there or why the grey shelf next door to it had magnum rounds on it- he wasn't going to complain. They'd agreed to stay put for a while, just enough for Chris to rest up and for them to sort through whatever they decided they did and didn't need to keep on them. The door was locked fairly securely and even though Chris knew it would only keep out certain T-virus infected creatures, Wesker said that he'd keep watch and the brunette trusted him.

His senses prickled as he felt the bed shift slightly beside him. Without a moments hesitation, he pulled his combat knife out from beneath his pillow, turned onto his side and brandished it horizontally towards a tanned, slender neck. A strong gloved hand caught his wrist before the blades edge could make contact with the smooth skin and he blinked, eyes widening.

"Sorry, Captain!" He said instantly, retracting his hand an inch. Wesker was still gripping his wrist, although more loosely now and he opened his eyes to glare up at Chris. "I thought you were one of those things." He leaned down on his arm, using his free hand to scrub away the sleep from his tired eyes, while his other lay lightly atop of Wesker's black vest, knife forgotten there.

"Evidently," his captain dead-panned, but he didn't sound as annoyed as Chris thought he'd be. "Well rested?" He looked back down at the blond, it feeling strange and different seeing him from this angle. Wesker's eyes looked more grey than blue where the florescent lighting shone on them but it didn't make them any less alluring. Alluring...since when?

"I wouldn't say 'well' rested," he answered lowly, staring blindly across the room instead of at the older man. "But time's up." He could feel his captain watching him but he tried not to let it get to him, sliding back down to lie properly on his side, head cushioned in the pillow and knife grasped tightly in his hand like a lifeline, point down. "Just let me lie here a few minutes...need to wake up." Wesker didn't say anything in response, simply stared up at the ceiling, looking deep in thought.

Chris couldn't help but stare at the one eye he could see, watching it dart every so often and adjust every time Wesker blinked. Until it slid round to meet his prying gaze, the blond slowly turning his head so that both eyes were on him. "I know, I'm staring," he murmured wearily before his captain got a chance to. "Just can't get used to seeing them. I mean...I'm so used to  _never_  seeing them." He gave a half shrug, studying the blond's irises and attempting to avoid the pupils at all cost.

"You've seen them before," Wesker stated, features the epitome of calm and clashing with the nightmare surrounding them. Chris took solace from it though, glad to have a captain whose head was always clear and focused where his wasn't. He was surprised Wesker even remembered that night- he himself, couldn't really, the only thing vivid in his mind being his captain's eyes.

"Yeah," he said merely to let the blond know that he knew what he was referring to, blowing out a breath. In hindsight, he probably should have feigned ignorance, it occurring to him that Wesker might be able to read the mixed emotions brooding in his eyes. He couldn't have Wesker find out about this...thing going on with him, but even as he thought that, returning the blond's steady gaze, he realised that the latter probably already knew. He sighed in defeat, eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at his hand, nail scraping against the flat end of the handle of his knife. After a long minute, he pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"Alright," he said and patted Wesker's body, prompting the older man to get up off the bed, leaving him room to do the same. "Before we do anything else, I think we should go check out what's on those slides." Wesker stood with his arms folded, thumb tapping against his mouth, eventually glancing sideways at him.

"We could input the two passcodes we have into the sealed door on the way," the blond decided, nodding reluctantly and pushing a hand through his hair. Chris wondered about his captain's reluctance but didn't hang about to question him about it. They had wasted enough time as it was. He took point, heading back to the main area and taking the hallway around on the right. There was a lone zombie shuffling along with its back to them and its head rolled around at the sound of their approach; the flesh of its cheek was completely ripped off so that they could see its yellowed teeth. Chris quickened his stride, bodily shoving the creature against the wall and sticking his knife through its skull, not wanting to draw any of its friends' attention. Some blood sprayed out as he withdrew his knife but he didn't stop to watch the thing crumple to the floor, merely moved on. Slipping into the lab, he waited until Wesker was clear before shutting the door behind them. They wouldn't be stopping long but he didn't want to risk anything getting the jump on them. He went further into the room, eyes alert for anything that hadn't been there previously, but the lab remained eerily empty.

"Over there." He looked over at the blond's voice before following his gaze to the reel on the floor, half lost beneath a lab table.

"Right." He nodded, retrieving the item and leading the way back out into the hallway. So far, so good, he thought but he didn't let up on the light tension thrumming through his core as he wiped his combat knife on his pants, getting rid of the fast-drying blood before replacing it in the holder pinned to his green vest. He felt more comfortable with Jill's gun at the ready, briefly preoccupied by questions of what Jill was currently using to protect herself. He could only hope that she'd found something else, if not better to keep the monsters at bay. He jogged down the corridor towards the sealed door, holstering the gun to rummage in his pockets for the slips with the codes while Wesker trailed behind, keeping guard.

It took a few moments to input them, a round red node bleeping green after each one to signal confirmation. It made him feel better to physically see that they only needed one more, strengthening his resolve and his hope that they were almost out of this. He knew that blowing this hell sky-high and getting back to the city wouldn't be the end of it, but even so, he longed for the hard earned drink and full nights sleep that awaited him beyond this mess. Not to mention, he had been dying for a smoke since the initial dog attack. Recalling that reminded him of Joseph and his features tightened momentarily with grief. He felt Wesker's eyes on him as he made his way back in his direction, mechanically discarding the slips of paper he still clutched and equipping Jill's beretta.

"Do you remember what I told you, Chris?" He paused by Wesker, glancing up belatedly.

"Captain?"

"About preparing yourself to face the traitor." He looked over the blond's serious expression, his own holding a morose taint.

"Yeah...I know..." he uttered almost inaudibly as he dropped his gaze to the gun gripped tightly in his hand.

"Good," was all his captain's response, tone emotionless but the blond lingered there a few seconds as though he was going to say more before finally starting the walk back.

"Albert...?" Chris called after him, a flash of intuition making his blue eyes gleam. Wesker glanced back at him over his shoulder. "Do you know who it is?" A crease formed between his captain's eyes, wordlessly giving him his answer.

"Chris-" Wesker began but he cut him off.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" He accused, although it didn't have any heat behind it for a change. He knew the blond's reasons- he didn't want Chris becoming emotional and reckless, risking their lives. He could understand that, he really could. However, it didn't change the fact that he wasn't going to feel right as long as Wesker was keeping it from him.

"I will tell you," his captain promised in a subdued voice, regaining his attention as he looked up. "You'll find out soon enough, Chris. For better or for worse." The brunette steeled his nerves, thinking that there could be no good outcome for this particular problem, but appreciating his captain's attempt to reassure him anyway. He caught up with Wesker, saying no more as they made their way upstairs.

* * *

_Chris and the other members of Alpha Team were spending their Saturday night at their favourite bar, which they frequented at least once a week, mostly after work on a Friday. No one from Bravo was there tonight unfortunately, since they were out on mission, investigating the recent animal attacks on the outskirts of the city. The brunette was currently joking around with Jill, leaning his side against the counter with a beer casually gripped in his hand. The woman with the short mousy-brown hair straightened up slightly, nudging his arm where it lay on the counter. He turned to follow her gaze just as Captain Wesker reached them, black mac folded over his arm and annoying shades firmly in place on his face despite being in a dimly lit bar at night._

" _Captain!" Chris greeted happily all the same, grinning. "Glad you could make it." He gave the blond a hearty pat on the back, it distantly occurring to him that he was already more tipsy than he'd thought. Wesker bristled infinitesimally at the over-friendly gesture but his mouth turned up on one side. Chris dropped his hand belatedly and took a swig of his drink as Wesker and Jill exchanged a nod._

" _Wesker, you're just in time," she informed their captain with a smirk of anticipation. "Chris is about to beat Joe's ass at darts for the millionth time."_

" _Really?" Wesker responded, his tone amused and his eyebrow quirked as he leaned forward to order a beer from a passing bartender. "Sure you're up for it, Chris?"_

" _Hell yeah!" Chris exclaimed eagerly, unperturbed by his captain's obvious teasing and the glint of mirth in Jill's crystal-clear, blue eyes at his expense. "You just watch, Captain-"_

" _Albert," the blond corrected him evenly, with the air of someone who'd long lost count of the times he'd had to do it._

" _Albert," Chris amended dismissively. "Joe doesn't stand a chance against a Redfield," he finished proudly, standing up tall and puffing out his chest. Jill chuckled lightly around the mouth of her bottle._

" _He's gonna be broke by the end of the night," she said and the brunette joined her laughter._

" _In that case, I suppose you'll be paying for his ride home, won't you, Chris?" Wesker commented and the man in question thought he detected a smug twitch to his captain's lips that had his eyebrows raising._

" _No way that's happening," he detested, sharing a quick grin with Jill. "He should learn not to gamble with such high stakes!"_

" _Hey, Chris!" They all turned at Barry's gruff voice to see him waving them over to the darts board._

" _Aw, you scared, Redfield?" Joseph chimed in before they'd even had a chance to move, arms folded over his chest and a shit-eating grin on his face. "Need Captain Wesker to hold your hand?" Jill choked on a laugh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, while the blond smirked, clearly enjoying himself for once. Chris wasn't surprised- Wesker always seemed to enjoy seeing him being made a fool of, especially when he was the one doing it. Rolling his eyes, he downed the rest of his drink as if that wouldn't hinder his performance at all and set it down hard on the counter-top._

" _Laugh it up while you can, Jo-Jo," he retorted, faux-friendly smile in place as he sauntered up to the man wearing the red bandanna. He was almost as bad as Wesker when it came to the stupid thing. The brunette had to hold back a laugh at the thought, the urge coming a lot more easily in his intoxicated state._

" _Now play nice, you two," Barry interjected in his typical fatherly way, although he was smiling widely, eyes crinkling at the corners._

" _Where would the fun be in that, Barry?" Wesker put in smoothly but Chris was too busy facing off against Joseph to notice how the tall, bearded man's smile dropped in reaction to their captain._

" _I'm just saying," Barry relented, the brunette seeing him hold his hands up as if in surrender in his peripheral vision._

" _Bear, you know how Chris likes to play dirty," Jill said, instantly brightening the atmosphere, which had dwindled slightly. The person in question smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at Joseph tauntingly._

" _Oh, you like to play dirty, do you, Chris?" He chuckled under his breath at his captain's uncharacteristically playful aside, while Joseph attempted to make himself look taller against the inch Chris had on him._

" _Every chance I get," he answered, flashing the blond a cheeky grin over his shoulder._

" _Come on, people," Joseph interrupted with a hint of impatience. "What're we waiting for?"_

" _Alright, alright," Chris placated him, still looking smug._

" _I am so gonna whoop your ass this time, Chris," his contender told him confidently, dark eyes full of promise._

" _You can try."_

" _Get him, Chris," Jill cheered from the sidelines, reminding him not for the first time why he loved having her around._

" _Hey, hey! What'd I miss?" Chris barely heard Brad's breathless arrival as he reached for the darts, features filling with determination._

* * *

Chris could feel the sorrow tightening the muscles in his throat as he followed closely behind Wesker up the stairs, lost in the memory of the previous night. Joseph had still been alive then. Barry and Jill were- no! They weren't dead. They were  _not_  dead. Just missing...just missing, that's all. And to think, while their comrades were out here being killed, torn to shreds, eaten, they had been having a laugh, enjoying themselves, having fun being  _alive_. When their friends- their  _family_ \- had needed them. Chris' heart hardened in his chest, his naturally smiling face growing sharp and steely.

"Chris." He glanced up, gaze focusing on his captain's comforting hand on his arm and then on his face. They were just outside the Visual Data Room, about to learn more of Umbrella's sordid secrets no doubt. Wesker squeezed his arm, the barest hint of concern and something else, not unlike caution tainting his features. "Stay with me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters song: The Little Things Give You Away by Linkin Park

Chris clutched the slide reel in his gloved hands, standing before the projector and mentally trying to stave off the stronger bout of melancholia that had gripped him in an iron fist since he'd awoken in the rest room. It didn't help that Wesker had grown unnaturally still and quiet, face like a statue carved from stone. It was somehow worse without his shades partially obscuring his expression- his eyes looked utterly lifeless as they stared pre-emptively at the screen and yet they seemed darker in hue. Chris wondered at the subtle change, feeling unnerved and hesitant. A voice at the back of his mind urged him not to see what was on the slides but the lack of reason for it gave him no choice but to go ahead with it.

The first slide had Umbrella's logo on it, bold and shameless, and a title that read 'Bio-Organic Weapon Official Report'. He didn't linger on it, feeling sick to the stomach with unadulterated rage at the twisted corporation. The next gave him a pretty clear idea of what the report entailed. It was a description of one of their monsters; statistics, behaviour, mutations. There was a large picture beside the text and a smaller one beneath, leaving no doubt as to which particular abomination it was talking about. They'd named the zombie dogs 'Cerberus'. Chris wasn't sure what the 'MA-39' meant but he could hazard a guess that the number referred to the amount of trials they'd been through to reach this product. He moved on, studying the pictures of a shark much like the one that had got Richard in the Aqua Ring beneath the Guardhouse. It seemed like at every turn he was reminded of his fallen comrades, haunting him and intensifying his worry for Jill, Barry and Rebecca. For Richard, it had been tragically unfortunate, being brought back from the brink of death with his and the medic's help, only to be snuffed out like a candle. Richard's fate had been doomed from the beginning.

It appeared Umbrella were following a mythological theme in the naming of their creatures, Cerberus deriving from Greek mythos while Neptune, as they'd named their pet sharks, was Roman. He supposed the 'Fi' in this particular ones title could stand for Fish, leading him to assume the 'MA' might stand for mammal. Either way, he knew that these slides weren't going to get any better from here, briefly questioning whether they should keep going. Wesker still didn't have anything to say but it was little wonder when the brunette glanced over to see the former watching him, paying no attention to the screen.

"Doesn't look like they had any intention of using this on humans so far," he commented, merely to break the tension but it held fast, suffocating the pores in his skin.

"Purely an accident then," his captain replied, tone emotionless as though the confirmation was unnecessary by this point. Chris frowned at the strange tint to his captain's features. It was as if there was something hidden there, just out of reach. Wesker continued to gaze at him, almost warily as if the brunette might attack him any second. Was his captain...suspicious of him? He asked himself, feeling incredulous at the idea. No- his captain knew who the traitor was so he knew it wasn't him. But then, why was he watching him like that...? Something niggled at the back of his mind but he couldn't quite put two and two together so he pushed it back, returning his focus to the slides. This slide depicted the vicious reptilian creatures that had overrun the mansion on his return. Having witnessed their long piercing claws up close, he felt the pictures did them little justice. So Wesker had been right on the mark when he'd referred to them as 'hunters'. The brunette could still hear their ear-splitting screeches ringing in his ears from his encounters. They were fast bastards when they weren't stalking menacingly towards you, making him think that that was what made them more dangerous than the zombies. The cerberi had that speed in common, not withstanding their jaws of steel.

He had to pause for a moment to collect his thoughts when he switched to the next slide, a feeling of foreboding crawling up the length of his spine. This monstrosity was a lot more detailed, although with a less clear picture. It seemed more like a drawing- a design perhaps- not as substantial as the real life photos from the previous slides. It made him wonder if the researchers had got very far with this experiment. He sincerely hoped not. It was clearly humanoid, although rather large in scale and with a huge claw extending from where one of its hands should have been. They had named it 'Tyrant' and the connotations of that seemed stark indeed. He couldn't have been more wrong to think that Umbrella hadn't gone this far as to deliberately use the T-virus on humans. T...for Tyrant.

"How could they do this to someone..." he uttered, half in disbelief, half in horror. His deep blue eyes wavered towards his captain, not wanting to look at the grotesque creature any longer. He didn't want to even think about the possibility of having to face it in person. Wesker's angular features looked mildly thoughtful now, deliberating even. His eyes snapped up to Chris before he stepped forward, gently removing the brunette's hand from where it hovered on the projector.

"That's enough, Chris." The brunette was simultaneously shocked and relieved as he stared back into the blond's eyes. Finally a human reaction, he thought, finally Wesker was showing him that he wasn't the only one affected, revolted, distressed by the hell they were in. Just like him, his infallible captain couldn't bear to look upon Umbrella's so-called successful creations. His eyes dropped to the blond's tanned hand where it was still lightly on top of his, comforting, reassuring as it always was.

"I know how you feel, Captain," he said softly, earnestly as he raised his eyes once more. Wesker lifted an eyebrow, a crease at the bridge of his nose. "I feel the same. But we should see this through to the end."

"No, I think it best we refocus our energy on the task at hand." His captain's tone had been laced with finality, gaze hard but the brunette couldn't help but argue, albeit as subordinately as possible.

"There might be something else important on here." He reached over for the projector again but his captain's hand caught him around the wrist. He blinked, looking at Wesker with confusion written all over his face. Why was Wesker being so adamant about this? Something settled in the atmosphere surrounding them, something that had his gut clenching in unease. The blond's hand moved to grasp his uninjured shoulder, eyes deadly serious.

"All that matters right now is setting off the self-destruct system," his captain told him in lowered tones, features stern. "We level this place and we don't wait around to watch it happen. Understood?"

"But..." Chris trailed off, not knowing exactly what to say as he registered the faintest hint of impatience ruining Wesker's usually calm and collected appearance. "Captain, I don't think-"

"Do you understand me, Redfield?" The blond's tone was clipped, authoritative and Chris sensed himself glare in frustration and annoyance for an unsteady moment, until the thunderclouds cleared from within his eyes. He thought back over his captain's words, ice-cold dread moving through his veins like sludge. This time it struck him and struck him painfully precisely, what Wesker  _hadn't_  said. He hadn't mentioned finding the others. In Wesker's mind, was everyone else dead- or as good as? His brain whirred at the prospect, doing overtime. The way Chris saw it, if there had been one person bound to survive, it would have been the traitor. The person who had known about everything from the start, the one person out of all of them who had been perfectly equipped for what lay ahead; but then surely the only reason Wesker would think Barry, Jill and Rebecca were dead was if he knew they weren't the traitor...but if  _they_  weren't...

He knew it was a stretch, that he was probably acting paranoid but why else would Wesker not want them to finish the slide reel? Unless there was something on there that the blond didn't want him to see. That wasn't all, he realised suddenly, his pulse quickening. There was another thing that didn't sit right with him- a crucial question that had gone unasked, only now coming to his attention. He met his captain square in the eyes, shifting back a step and out from under his grasp.

"You still haven't asked me what happened to Vice-Captain Marini."

Wesker scanned his face slowly, seeing the dark spark of intuition in his eyes. When he didn't immediately reply, Chris felt his stomach drop, expression turning lost and desperate. Right now, he didn't give a damn if the blond could read his vulnerability. "How did you know I was gonna tell you about the traitor when I brought up Enrico? Unless you..." He bit down on his tongue and clenched his fists, not wanting to finish the thought; scared to, if he was honest with himself. Wesker released a muted sigh, remaining stoic in the face of the blatant accusation. In a way, that gave the brunette a morsel of hope. He half expected his captain to drive away his new-found doubt with a reasonable explanation in a long suffering manner. However, the blond did no such thing.

"I think we both know the answer to that, Chris."

So he was admitting it?! He didn't accept that- it was ridiculous, inconceivable. Wesker had probably just witnessed the exchange and hadn't mentioned it because he didn't want Chris to know he'd been keeping tabs on him. That must be it- he probably saw the person who killed Enrico and that's how he found out about the traitor. At this point he was okay with the traitor being Brad and his chicken heart, as long as it wasn't Wesker. He knew he was clutching at straws, that he should be giving in to the instinct twitching in his fingers to go for his gun. He knew he should, but a separate part of his mind, a more dominant part wasn't ready to accept something so unthinkable. To relinquish his unwavering trust and admiration for his captain. He didn't want to believe the worst about this man that he had worked under for years, who he had bonded with, who he had whiled away hours in the RPD's boxy, little shooting range with, who he'd gone for a beer with after work. The man who had saved his life more times than he could count on two hands, who he...

His unfocused gaze fell on the projector and without a seconds hesitation, he went for it, shoving the blond out of the way. There was a blank slide and then another with a photograph that tore right through his heart. He couldn't drag his gaze away from the image of his captain in a lab coat, wearing the damn shades so familiar to him and standing amongst a group of researchers.  _Umbrella_ researchers. The brunette brought his hands up to scrunch in his hair, feeling mentally debilitated, eyes wide and lips parted. Up until that moment he hadn't believed it- hadn't  _allowed_  himself to believe. Every cell, every fibre of his very being had been waiting for a simple explanation, for proof that his captain  _wasn't_  the traitor. He hadn't- he couldn't- believe that Wesker would betray him, betray STARS. He couldn't- he couldn't...it just couldn't be-! And yet here in front of him was the undeniable evidence.

"We don't have time for breakdowns, Chris. All that matters is blowing this place up and escaping."

"Since when, Wesker?" Chris muttered in a dead voice, minutely setting fire to the untameable anger building deep within him and replacing the noose of despair around his neck. He heard the blond release a long sigh, before relenting.

"I've always been with Umbrella." He felt like he was going to throw up. Captain Albert Wesker, his captain, a traitor? A mole within STARS. To say it was hard for him to swallow would be a gross understatement. He slowly dropped his arms to his sides, balling his hands tightly as he struggled with the sinister revelation. He turned to look at the blond and all he saw was a complete stranger. The Wesker who he'd thought he'd known- as a friend, his comrade- had never existed. The man who stood in his place was just a blank-faced slave to Umbrella, following ruthless orders and skilfully fooling them all. Chris hadn't felt so hurt and betrayed in all his life, and his time in the Air Force hadn't been easy. Now that he knew the truth, it was woefully apparent to him what Wesker really was. How had he been so blind? How had none of them seen what was so plainly under their noses? Was Albert Wesker even his name?!

"I trusted you- we trusted you," he forced out, the anger seeping through into the volume of his voice. "None of it was real? All those times spent together- you were one of us, you were part of our family-"

"I was never one of you," the blond said, almost serene as he bore the brunt of the brunette's fast-forming hatred. "I was always set apart. It was easier that way."

"None of it was real?!" Chris repeated, attempting to still the frantic beating of his heart, but it only panged harder.

"You were real, Chris," Wesker returned with an enragingly knowing glint in his blue-grey eyes. "Your thoughts, feelings. The fact that you are reacting so vehemently is a testament to how well I played my part."

"Your part-?!" He clenched his teeth with a resounding clack, his fingers itching for his gun. Wesker must have sensed it because he stepped forward, gaze determined.

"Listen, Chris. You can hate me all you want, it's understandable given the circumstances, but it remains the same that we need to work together here."

"I don't need your help," the brunette spat out bitterly, disgusted by the way Wesker's proximity still affected him so. "I survived perfectly fine without your help before and I can do it again. I don't need you." His eyes narrowed at the small smile that graced the blond's face, dripping condescension.

"That's not exactly true, is it, Chris?" He seethed at the implication, hating that part of himself and damning Wesker for seeing it. "You can dress up this anger as the betrayal of STARS but we both know what this is really about. You've always been too emotional for your own good. It's helped me out but I dare say it's put you at a bit of a disadvantage." Chris' right hook flew out of its own volition, colliding with Wesker's nose so hard that he staggered to the side slightly, bright blood trickling down over his mouth.

"You don't get to say shit about my weaknesses," he shouted in the blond's face, pointing his finger for emphasis with the same hand, knuckles grazed. "You're not my captain, you're not my comrade and you sure as hell ain't my friend! You've lost all right to treat me as beneath you. To think we loved you as our leader, our brother in arms, when all this time you were Umbrella scum!" He pulled the blond up straight by the neck of his vest. "Maybe there was a time when I needed you more than you ever needed me but that time is dead and gone. I only wish I could put a bullet through your skull myself."

"Then why don't you?" Wesker challenged, looking as unruffled as ever, staring right back at Chris.

"Because you don't get to have the easy route out," he answered in deep unforgiving tones. "You deserve to pay for all the shit that you've done. All the lives lost." The blond grabbed a hold of his vest so that there was only a thin strip of air separating them.

"You say that but you could never kill me, Chris. Just as I won't kill you." The brunette bodily shoved him away, finally pulling Jill's handgun from the holster and aiming it at the blond's head to ward him off.

"You won't kill me? Like I'd believe another word that comes out of your mouth."

"I told you," Wesker said evenly but dismissively. "I owe you one. Therefore I don't mind helping you make it out alive. As for the others...I guess they'll have to save themselves." Chris scowled, moving forward and pressing the butt of his gun hard against the blond's forehead.

"You do as I say now, Wesker," he retorted in the most superior tone he could muster. "Now answer me. Did you kill Enrico?" Wesker crossed his arms as though the answer to that question was elementary but the brunette needed to hear it all the same.

"I couldn't be sure how much Marini had found out, whether he would cast suspicion on me. Regardless, he had already said too much, informed you of Umbrella's-"

"I don't want your sorry excuses," Chris sneered, cutting him off and pushing the gun harder against his head. "Did. You.  _Kill_. Enrico?"

"Yes, Chris," the blond said in mild exasperation. "Does that even remotely alter the situation. Yes, I worked for Umbrella and yes, I killed Marini-"

"Worked?" The brunette questioned incredulously, shaking his head as if expecting Wesker to come up with some shoddy defence that he was on STARS' side now.

"I did as they said and lured you all here to the mansion but ever since I've been following my own game plan. My time with Umbrella corp. is done."

"Then why did you kill him?! Why were you covering for them?" Chris was growing desperate again, hearing the steady voice of his captain but seeing an apathetic murderer in his place. He could feel the bile trying to force its way up his throat, hating the fact that the tremor in his hands hadn't lessened any.

"I can never be quite sure when they're monitoring my movements," he heard the blond say matter of factly as he squeezed his world-weary eyes shut. "I couldn't risk them sending in a cleaner to interfere with my plans." For several long moments, the brunette didn't speak, temporarily detached from reality, only aware of the war going on inside him. When he reopened his eyes he knew they shone with the pain he couldn't rid himself of.

"Why did it have to be  _you_?!" He spoke in a hushed voice that cracked faintly on the 'you', causing him to glance away in shame and fury. He sensed more than heard Wesker sigh.

"You know what it's like to be given orders, Chris," the blond said, all business, not giving away even a hint of emotion, of care. "When you're given a job to do, a role to play, you do it and you do it to perfection. You do what you're trained to do and you do it at all costs." Chris looked him in the eyes fiercely, refusing to see the unwanted pity residing there. "I must admit, I manipulated you more than the others but it was only as you gave me the opportunity to. You always make yourself an easy target, Chris. I've warned you of that before, I've warned you of many things over the years- probably too much. Perhaps that's why you've never been quite as blind as I could have made you. I know you've had moments of doubt about me in the past where you shouldn't have."

"Whether I had doubts or not," Chris responded slowly but firmly, lowering the aim of his gun to Wesker's chest so that he could clearly see the older man's expression. "I believed in you. Yeah, maybe I put you on a pedal-stool but it was because I saw the good in everything you did; everything we accomplished in STARS with you as our captain. I would have done anything for you, we all would've. So even if I figured out the truth, you don't need to nurse a wounded ego. You're whole act was flawless." The acid lacing his tongue by the end was heavy and dark and he relished the brief flicker of aggravation he glimpsed on the blond's face. There was nothing left to say, nothing that would change anything at least. Wesker might have been following orders, doing his 'job' but he'd turned his back on his comrades; done next to nothing to help them, been absent for practically the whole investigation. He'd probably been busy covering his tracks. It was just too bad he hadn't headed to the facility sooner. Chris stiffly backed up a step, keeping his gun trained on Wesker and watching for any sudden movements. The blond was glaring faintly but he seemed calm. Almost too calm and Chris for once, didn't like it.

"I meant what I said, Chris," Wesker spoke into the thick atmosphere, voice quiet but steely. "I'll help you get out of here."

"As if I'd abandon the others," the brunette scoffed sarcastically as he mentally decided on a plan of action. "I'm not you."

"You can stop with this childish nonsense, Chris. You've made your point." The person in question had several heated retorts at the ready but he held his tongue last minute and tried to reign in his anger, not wanting to reinforce Wesker's snide remark. "There's a power room downstairs where we can start the shutdown sequence. That's also where we'll find the machine to input the third MO disk. I'm assuming you want to free Jill from her prison cell."

"What...?" Chris' head spun and within a second he was livid again. "You locked Jill up in there?! And you were just gonna leave her to rot- to get blown up with the rest of this place?!"

"Not exactly," the blond denied casually as if they were discussing the weather. "I expected you'd probably go snooping down there if you made it this far. I just put her there out of the way." Chris was glaring so hard at Wesker's blasé attitude that his deep blue eyes ached.

"But what if we'd gone there first? Before checking these slides?" He demanded, trying weakly to understand the blond's seemingly messed up logic. Was he just making it up as he went along? It was so at odds with his picture of the captain he'd worked with for so long that he felt his face scrunching up in disbelief once again. "Jill would have pointed to you as the traitor and then what?"

"You wouldn't have believed her," Wesker stated so confidently that it immediately grated on Chris.

"Of course I would've, it's Jill."

"You would have believed me over her," the blond said as if he was tiring of this topic of conversation. "It took myself admitting it and you seeing an incriminating photo for you to accept me as the traitor. It would have been my word against hers and you would have sided with me. Don't argue, Chris, this is all starting to wear on my patience." The brunette was close to lashing out again but unfortunately Wesker was right and they were losing enough time as it was. For all he knew, there could be 'fresh' zombies waiting outside and wandering the corridors.

"Where does that elevator lead?" He demanded roughly, all out of politeness and respect where his so-called captain was concerned. He saw the almost imperceptible twitch of jaw muscles working and narrowed his eyes sharply in response. The shaking of his hands was finally starting to lessen as his mind concentrated on his plan, reaffirming the grip on his handgun.

"It takes you down to another floor," Wesker answered, visibly calculating and measuring his words, which was only infuriating Chris further. Before he could say as much however, the blond continued. "There's a lab down there and..." He could only wait as he watched Wesker's face suddenly become resolute. "...there is a particularly volatile experiment down there. It's currently in an induced sleep but there's no telling for how much longer it will remain in that condition. The lab has already gone unmanned for several hours-"

"You're still trying to cover for them?" Chris asked, cutting the blond off and openly showing his hurt and confusion. "You really think I'm gonna let you manipulate me now, after everything?! That I'm gonna let you threaten me into avoiding an area that probably has the most ground-breaking evidence in this-"

"For God's sake, Chris, I am not covering for anyone," Wesker shot back, putting a stunted end to his tirade and displaying more emotion on his face than Chris ever remembered seeing. "Why would I want you to avoid a place that I myself, need to go? I am under arrest, aren't I? I'm assuming you're not going to let me go wandering off on my own while you take a coffee break."

"Why do you need to go there?" He questioned harshly, not allowing his guard to slip even one more inch. He was the one in control here- Wesker was a criminal under his charge- and he wasn't going to stand here amicably discussing and devising a plan with this traitor. Even if he had been his captain not minutes prior.

"There's a computer terminal down there where I can gain access to the combat data." Chris stared at the blond for a long tense minute, his brain rebooting before he managed a verbal reaction.

"You  _what_?"

"Umbrella wanted me to lure you all here to acquire combat data on all the BOWs and once done, blow the place along with the evidence of both the incident and the pharmaceuticals true purpose. Needless to say, they wont be getting their hands on that data."

"You're going to sell it?" Chris found himself scowling intensely at the stranger in front of him as one by one the faces of his dead comrades fleeted through his mind. How had things come to this...?

"Umbrella owe me much more," the blond uttered in a deep, sinister tone, his greyish eyes razor-edged and sending a chill down Chris' spine. "And I will bring the company down one way or another." Chris gritted his teeth. He couldn't bear to listen to any more of this. It was all coming out now, but too much and too fast. Wesker was getting ahead of himself, thinking that they were on equal terms even after what he'd done. Just because Chris was keeping him alive, didn't mean they would be continuing their teamwork- their partnership. And it sure as hell didn't mean he was going to let the blond waltz out of here with his precious data just because he'd deemed Chris worthy of his help.

" _You_  are being handed in for processing as soon as we get back to the precinct," he stated in a cold tone that he rarely used and that he most likely had picked up from Wesker himself. It was certainly reminiscent of him in any case. "So you won't be needing that data now, will you? We, however, could definitely use it for when we report back to Chief Irons."

"We." It hadn't been a question and a corner of the blond's mouth had twitched up in strange amusement. "How easily you remove me from that equation."

"Easy?" Chris stepped forward again, gun still trained on Wesker's chest as he looked him dead in the eyes, expression grim. "About as easy as dissecting my own brain. That's what you want to hear, isn't it? You wanna hear me say how much this has messed me up-  _you've_  messed me up. Well, I hope it was all worth it, Wesker."

"For the record," the blond began as though he hadn't listened to a single word the brunette had said. "The worst thing to come out of this T-virus outbreak is that I've lost some of my STARS team members. That Umbrella chose all of you for their little test is truly regrettable."

" _Your_  team members? Don't make me laugh, Wesker," the brunette scoffed venomously. "You haven't given a damn about us from the beginning! The people you talk of with phony regret- you killed them with your own hands!" Something unrecognisable but undoubtedly heated flashed in Wesker's eyes then and when the blond stepped forward, opening his mouth to argue, Chris almost flinched. "No! No more. I've had enough of your bullshit, Wesker. Now, walk." He gestured with his gun for the blond to walk in front of him, with every intention of frog-marching him down to the Power Room.

"You're not going to take my gun? My weapons?" Wesker asked with a quirked eyebrow, having not moved an inch. Chris spared him a patronising look.

"I'm not stupid," he stated in a hard voice. "If you're gonna be any use, you're gonna need weapons. We don't know what else's down there. Besides, I need you alive."

"Smart choice," Wesker praised with a secretive smirk that had Chris prickling, his face a fiery mask of utter disdain and hatred.

"I might need you alive, but if you try anything funny, I swear I'll kill you. Now,  _walk_."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters song is: I Hate Love by Garbage

_Chris, geared up and beretta equipped, was creeping along the grimy hallway of a derelict building, his right shoulder pressed against the wall. A hostage situation had been called in not a couple hours earlier in the day and both STARS teams had been sent in while the rest of the assigned RPD officers served as a distraction with negotiations. The members had been partnered up apart from Brad who was up in a copter, providing aerial support and Captain Wesker, who was searching the building alone to speed things up. Jill and Chris had had to take down three patrolling kidnappers already, having no other choice than to use lethal methods, otherwise be killed themselves. They'd searched the bodies for any forms of identification or clues as to which part of the old factory the hostages were being held in but they came up empty each time._

_Chris wiped off the light sheen of sweat on his forehead with his arm, briefly glancing behind him to make sure Jill was still with him. The afternoon sun was beating down suffocatingly on the building, the still air not so much as giving them a soft breeze through the large, glass-less bay windows. He edged closer and closer to a door frame; its metal door had been taken off its hinges what seemed like years ago, considering its dust-caked, rusted condition where it lay abandoned across the floor. The only sound was the quiet scraping of their STARS issue t-shirt sleeves against the cream paint-flaked, coral brick and the light tread of their boots against the grit. Chris stopped next to the door frame, raising the gun in his gloved hands and listening. For several long, tense seconds there was nothing, but then there was a slight muffle of a voice and he and Jill exchanged a quick look, tightening the grip on their guns._

_They needed to notify Wesker, the brunette thought, sparing his radio a look before splitting a diligent glance up and down the hallway. He thought he saw a shadow dance up ahead and instantly moved into a ready stance, ushering his mousy-haired partner back a couple steps and pointing his gun straight in front of them. He sensed Jill turn so that they were back to back, silently relieving the urge to glance back behind him. They waited, Chris breathing through his mouth and his deep blue eyes aching from how hard he was staring. Someone abruptly stepped out from a doorway, a gun trained on him and causing his heart to spike sharply. He relaxed after a millisecond however, when his gaze registered the familiar black shades and locks of blond, slicked-back hair. Wesker swiftly looked up and down the hallway before heading towards them with slow, steady steps, one foot in front of the other as he sidled up against the wall._

_Chris and Jill returned to their positions, the former waiting until he was almost positive his captain's hidden eyes were on him before gesturing to the doorway with his own. The blond nodded once, pausing on the other side of the frame and his tanned features taking on a look of concentration. Chris had been watching his captain intently so he was quick to notice when his attention returned to him. The blond touched the radio on his belt, turning a dial. Chris got the message loud and clear as he gently reached up for his own attached to his green vest and turned it off. Jill closely followed suit, nodding at him in affirmation before he looked back at Wesker, gun once again gripped firmly in his hands. Wesker signalled for him to peak inside and he set his jaw, inching his face close to the frame and tilting his head. He caught a glimpse before pulling back not too sudden and not too slow, holding his breath._

_After a moment of continued silence, he breathed out through his nose and looked at Wesker's expectant face, relaying with his fingers that there was one hostile on either side of the vast room. The blond mouthed the word 'hostages' and he nodded, steeling his nerves as he anticipated his captain's order. Wesker signed for him to take the one on his side while he took the other and Jill brought up the rear, watching their backs. He watched Wesker countdown from three with his fingers and then he was rounding the frame and pacing forwards to the right, gun aimed at a balaclava-clad man's head. Within a second the man had made to swing the aim of an AK-47 in his direction and he'd shot, glancing quickly sideways to see his captain's target drop to the floor. The blond instructed him to keep his eyes peeled and scout out the rest of the area._

_The hostages had been divided into three small groups in the centre; Chris' hostile had fallen on one of the groups and they had blindly scrambled to move away, hands bound behind their backs and blindfolds covering their eyes. As he paced a few steps past them towards a hunk of broken down machinery, he'd heard a tussle back by the doorway and looked over his shoulder to see Jill expertly disarming another assailant and kicking out at the back of his legs to bring him to his knees, aiming her handgun at his head. The man lifted his hands in surrender and she bent his arms back so that she could cuff him. Chris turned to Wesker to see that he had started to remove some of the hostages' blindfolds. Focusing forwards again he moved towards the back of the room, eyes flickering over the bits of furniture scattered here and there, seeing no one else._

_He eased up, allowing himself to welcome the feeling of accomplishment, another job well done. He breathed out and turned to walk back towards the others, seeing Barry and Joseph enter. Joseph took over Jill's guard so that she could move on to help and reassure the hostages, Barry squatting down to check over one of the dead men. The brunette smiled, eyes wandering to where his captain was stood, radioing in to the other members that they'd found and secured the hostages. He holstered his gun and bent down to unbind a smartly dressed woman's hands with his combat knife, murmuring soothing words._

" _You're safe now," he said, giving her a comforting smile once he'd removed the blindfold from her teary eyes and pulled down the rag from her mouth, squeezing her shoulder._

" _Th-thank you...thank you-!" She sniffled almost incoherently as her voice wobbled in near-hysteria, grasping onto him and staining his shoulder with her grateful tears._

" _It's okay. Just stay put for now," he told her, disentangling himself. "Rest." He returned her shaky smile as she nodded frantically in acknowledgement of his words. He straightened up as Enrico showed up, flanked by Edward and Kenneth with Richard bringing up the rear. He was about to move onto another hostage when his ears pricked at a bang and a scuffle of feet somewhere behind him, a warrior's cry ringing out just as he spun on his heel. The cry choked off at the shot of a gun and Chris stood and watched, dumbfounded as a man with a navy scarf covering half his face and a metal baseball bat in his hands stumbled to the floor, unmoving, the bat rolling on the concrete ground. He must have been hiding behind the cubic machinery in the far back, Chris thought distantly and as he did, he felt his gut beginning to clench in anxiety. He gradually turned back around and looked apprehensively in his captain's direction. The blond still had his gun raised and one side of his mouth was tugging down. Wesker didn't need to take his shades off for Chris to feel the death glare radiating from beneath them. He swiped the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead, dropping his gaze to the floor in shame and humiliation. He'd really messed up this time and there was no way the blond was going to overlook it._

" _Bravo Team, I want every inch of this building scoured for stragglers, including this area," Wesker ordered sternly, impenetrable gaze still on Chris. "Redfield, make yourself useful for once and help lead the hostages out of here to safety."_

* * *

_Back at the precinct, the brunette stood in front of Wesker's desk, hanging his head. He was still geared up, having resigned himself for the inevitable chewing out and headed straight to the STARS office, if a little reluctantly. No one else had arrived yet and he was glad for that, preferring it if he didn't have an audience for this dressing down. Wesker hadn't had to tell him to be here, it went without saying and he hoped his show of obedience might soften his captain somewhat. The chances of that weren't great, he knew, especially when he heard the door slam shut behind him. He kept his head down, his hands clasped behind his back as Wesker breezed past him._

" _This cocksure attitude of yours is going to get you killed- if not one of your teammates, or worse yet, a civilian," the blond said strictly as he rounded his desk to sit down. Chris' ears were already starting to turn red as he risked looking up, before settling on staring absently at the desk instead of at the blond directly. Wesker was still armed like him, emphasising how serious the situation was by the fact that his captain too had headed straight here. "Sometimes I really wonder about you, Redfield." The brunette couldn't help but bristle- the blond only used his surname when he was pissed or just plain mocking him. The two regularly went hand in hand when it came to Wesker._

" _With all due respect, Captain," he began daringly, although in a placating tone. "I believe it's my trust in my teammates and my faith in your leadership that puts me in these situations. Not arrogance." He glanced at his captain's face, reading no emotion whatsoever there._

" _Is that so?" The blond retorted blandly, locking his hands together on top of his desk. Chris wouldn't be surprised if he'd rolled his eyes behind those damned shades, becoming fidgety in response to the rising annoyance. He knew he was well and truly in the wrong but he never liked the way his captain grew condescending in times like these. "Flattery will get you nowhere fast with me, Redfield. You should know that by now."_

" _I mean it, Captain," the brunette said defensively, not able to help feeling mildly offended. "I trusted you and you had my back just like always." He grew disheartened as he watched Wesker pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation._

" _What if I hadn't been there? Then what?" Chris' eyebrows drew together at the weary tone, hating that he'd let his captain down so much that the older man was sounding quite literally done with him._

" _But you were there," he pointed out almost helplessly, eyes dropping to his feet again._

" _I could have been incapacitated somewhere else in the building." His eyes flew up at that statement and he could tell that Wesker was reading the incredulity written all over his face by the twitch of his eyebrow. "This isn't about my performance, Chris, it's about yours." He sighed audibly at the clipped tone, unsure of how to rectify things._

" _I didn't enter until you arrived and gave the order," he said matter of factly as evidence of his proper conduct, even though he knew Wesker was probably wandering what he would have done if he hadn't shown up at precisely the right time. "I wouldn't have entered if you hadn't been there."_

_His captain hummed non-committally. "I'm not so sure about that. Regardless, this is about you failing to properly scope out an all but furniture-less room."_

" _Have I really not been making progress, Captain? In your eyes?" He asked sullenly after a moment. Wesker released a muted sigh, leaning back in his chair and toying with a pen._

" _I can see you've been trying hard, Chris," he answered evenly and the brunette relaxed a fraction at the lighter tone. "At any rate, I can't recall the last time you questioned my judgement." The blond leaned forward again and effectively captured his gaze despite the shades. "However, your point about me having your back- you need to realise that I have to watch out for every member of STARS, not just you. Especially when both Alpha and Bravo are working together. How can I do that when you're constantly throwing caution to the wind or dropping your guard well before you're trained to or straight up disobeying my orders? Do you understand the position that puts me in? It would be completely different if it were only you and me on mission today, but it wasn't, Chris." The brunette could only stare at his captain, processing the blunt words as his stomach curled in intense embarrassment. If it were anyone but Wesker, if it were any of his commanding officers from back in the Air Force, he'd be angrily defending himself, telling them that everyone makes mistakes and that in the end, no one had got hurt; but he listened to the blond. He took on board every word he said, and actively tried to use the advice to improve. He respected Wesker and part of him would do anything to earn the man's respect in return._

" _I understand what you're saying, Captain."_

" _Do you?" Wesker asked doubtfully, causing his brow to furrow in confusion._

" _Captain?"_

" _Perhaps I haven't trained you hard enough," the blond remarked with a crease at the bridge of his nose. "What else could it be, Chris? You don't want me to think of you as the same petulant child chucked out of the Air Force for insubordination, so what am I to think?" There was a drawn out pause in which Chris wasn't sure if his captain was awaiting an answer or not. Just as the blond began to release another sigh however, he spoke up._

" _If you think I need more training then I'll have it, Captain," he told Wesker earnestly. The blond sat back, tapping his pen against the arm of his chair. He knew the extra training hours would eat into his free-time but he was more than willing to suffer it if his captain deemed it necessary. Anything to get off the shit-list he was more than certainly a permanent name on. "Whatever you thinks best. I promise I won't disappoint you again."_

" _Perhaps you should stop worrying about disappointing me and start worrying about disappointing yourself."_

" _I'll try..." Chris responded with little inflection, understanding his captain's meaning at the same time as knowing he couldn't help but try to make the older man proud._

" _The new perspective might do you some good," Wesker encouraged, although his tone remained professional and serious. Chris felt the corners of his lips lift into a warm smile._

" _I'm sure it will, Captain," he agreed whole-heartedly, beginning to feel more like his normal self._

" _You'd better get started on your report, Chris," Wesker said briskly as Jill and Joseph entered the office, the former sending him a questioning look while the latter smirked. "Oh and Chris?" He glanced back at his captain, smile still in place. "I expect it to be finished by 20:00 hours at the latest. You're staying for a training session with me tonight."_

" _Yes, sir."_

* * *

Chris had taken Wesker back down to the rest room at gun point, leaving the blond to keep a lookout in the doorway while he retrieved the shotgun he'd left there temporarily. He didn't take his eyes off Wesker, the strong waves of distrust heavy in the air between them and pounding in his head like a siren. The revelation of his ex-captain's treachery was like a lead weight in his chest but he'd just about managed to steel his resolve and accept the truth for what it was. The man he'd looked up to was a lie, an illusion, and Wesker was just another criminal being escorted to the RPD. Albeit a dangerous one at that. The blond looked infinitely calm and patient in contrast to Chris' ball of tension. The lines of his back were alert as was usual but other than that, he appeared completely unfazed by the drastic turn of events. It infuriated the brunette, even more so when Wesker glanced back at him over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. He openly scowled, cocking his shotgun and pushing past him back into the T-shaped hall. If he'd been desperate for a smoke before, he was all but dying for one now.

"Now that you can stop pretending you don't already know this place like the back of your hand, you can lead the way,  _Captain_ ," he said sarcastically, aiming at Wesker's head in a deliberate motion. The blond smirked mildly, looking down and shaking his head.

"And what if I lead you into a trap?" Wesker returned drily, quirking his eyebrows as though finding their predicament highly amusing. Chris had to take a breath to steady his fluctuating anger levels; he could tell that Wesker was reading him like a book because the latter seemed to relent with a muted sigh.

"I guess we'll see just how much your word is worth then, won't we?" Before the blond could argue, he gave him an abrupt shove towards the power rooms thick set of double doors. Wesker shot him a vaguely disgruntled glare before once again smirking and shaking his head.

"I bet you're loving this, eh, Chris?" The traitor murmured suggestively before cracking open one of the doors and taking a glance inside.

"Anything?" Chris demanded in hushed tones, ignoring the older man's comment. "And don't even think about lying."

"How would you know if I was?" Wesker responded smoothly, pulling back and turning to meet the brunettes wary deep blue eyes. "Considering, as you've said, I'm so good at it." Chris had been leaning forward slightly and the limited space between them had his hairs prickling in restlessness. He could just make out the blond's natural scent beneath the light, though clearly expensive cologne as his gaze got trapped in the latter's icy-blue orbs.

"If you're not gonna be any help, I'll just have to find out myself," he ground out, hating the way the blond's mouth curled up at the corner in response to his obvious agitation. Up this close, in this semi-intimate positioning, he could almost forget who they were, who Wesker had turned out to be; the blond's elegant features seemed more open than he'd ever seen him, softer in a way, more human, less out of reach. Some of the anger gleaming in his eyes must have dissipated because Wesker's expression grew serious, his body shifting even closer to Chris as he opened his mouth to speak. However, Chris didn't let him get a word out, pushing him back with a firm hand on his chest, out of his personal space. "Move." His breathing was harder than it should have been but he refused to acknowledge the heated exasperation that the blond was now exuding with clenched jaws as they finally entered the power room, guns at the ready and eyes peeled.

"We should be able to get the power to the elevator back on from here," he heard Wesker say dispassionately, beneath the near deafening whirring and whining of machinery. He cast his gaze about, taking in the masses of steel, diamond-shaped mesh that covered almost every surface, including the walls, ceiling and floor. A lot of it had rusted like some of the other framework in the facility, giving the dimly lit room a burnt orange tint to it. At no sudden ambush or suspicious noises, he turned at Wesker's voice, shotgun gripped in his hands. "If you want to investigate the B4 lab, it's best if we hold off on starting the shutdown sequence."

He nodded once, stiffly. "So for now, you just need to show me to the terminal that we can get the elevator running with. Can you handle that much?"

"I suppose that means you don't want to get the final MO disk code," Wesker replied with a patronising flicker in his eyes that had the brunette's trigger finger twitching. "You can't seriously be contemplating leaving your girlfriend down in that cell, can you?"

"Shut it," Chris forced out, trying to keep his voice down as he glared at the blond. "You know what needs to be done and you know the way so get to it."

"Which first? I wonder which is more important to you, Chris- saving Valentine or eliminating the virus-"

"We don't have time for your games, Wesker!" The brunette growled vehemently, looking about anxiously, half-expecting a zombie to come out of nowhere and lunge at him. "What's closer?" Wesker released a low chuckle under his breath in response to his annoyance and started walking, leading them over to the right side. The brunette followed as the blond took a left down a walkway, watching their backs all the while, gut clenching in foreboding. They moved at a brisk but measured pace, reaching a dead-end where a clunky power panel had been fixed to the cage-covered wall. Chris instantly made for it, working it with one hand and keeping his shotgun poised with the other. He kept an eye on Wesker but otherwise had no choice but to temporarily put his trust in the snake of a man. After a few tense moments, he received a prompt to activate the power to certain blacked-out areas, which he did gladly without hesitation. He rejoined Wesker, pausing at the look of extreme concentration on the latter's face, grey-blue eyes focused upwards, towards the ceiling. Chris hesitantly took a ready stance, shifting closer to the blond and gazing in the same direction. However, he saw nothing, returning his attention to the traitor.

"What is it?" He questioned quietly but impatiently, refusing to allow his voice to regain even the barest hint of submissive undertones. If he needed to keep reminding himself that Wesker wasn't his Captain anymore, he'd have to do it, no matter how infuriating the thought was. Wesker hadn't startled at the sound of his voice, but he visibly did at the belated snap of the blond's head in his direction. He tried not to inch away as the older man leaned down towards him, eyes bright and alert.

"I heard something," Wesker said in lowered tones, the ghost of his breath dancing along Chris' cheek and causing him to swallow hard past the thick obstacle now blocking his airways. "It was far off but you need to be on the lookout." Wesker paused to roll his eyes at the brunette's irritated look before saying simply, "It could be anything, Chris. Don't drop your guard."

"Yeah, thanks for the advice," the brunette retorted bitterly. "But I am trained, you know." The corner of Wesker's mouth quirked and Chris scowled at having evoked the opposite reaction from the blond than he'd meant to. He moved to stalk past, back the way they'd come but not before catching Wesker's subtle response, which was almost entirely drowned out by the racket of working machinery surrounding them.

"I know that very well, Chris."

As he tread carefully past the entrance, he gestured for the blond to go ahead with a jut of his chin, eyeing him astutely when he walked by. Wesker took the first right, the brunette moving at a slower pace in his wake, keeping some distance between them with the idea that if they get attacked from both sides, they wouldn't be trapped in the middle. They came to a door on the left but when Wesker grasped the handle, three quick rattling bangs reached their ears. Chris froze, meeting the blond's fierce gaze as the latter looked back at him. He mutely shook his head that he hadn't been the one to cause the noise, holding his breath. His eyes flickered across the ceiling, gripping his gun tightly and turning sideways so that his back wasn't open. His palms were growing clammy in his gloves, a fresh layer of sweat beading on his forehead. A long, silent minute stretched out before them and he moved stealthily over to Wesker, regaining eye-contact. His lips parted in preparation to whisper to the older man but Wesker held a finger up to his own lips with a firm shake of his head. Wesker mouthed to him 'calm down' and as unappreciated as Chris took the gesture, he obeyed and kept his mouth clamped shut.

They went soundlessly through the door, taking it slow as they walked a couple of steps or so. It remained deathly quiet as they watched and waited, ears pricked for even the slightest tap, the smallest sound of a breathy moan. Nothing. Chris placed a tentative hand on Wesker's shoulder, wordlessly asking with his eyes which way they needed to go: straight or take the right. The blond gestured straight ahead and mouthed 'MO disk'. Chris nodded his understanding, fingers curling and uncurling a few times against Wesker's black vest as he thought about what they should get done first, partially still listening out for whatever was surely lurking in the shadows. There was no doubt in his mind about how badly his nerves had been racked but this smothering atmosphere might surely finish them off for good; and for all they knew the monster, whatever it was, could be moving about as they stood there, unable to hear a thing with all the steam and loud thrumming already blocking their senses.

Feeling Wesker's heavy gaze, he glanced back up to see his ex-captain nod in the direction of the MO disk machine. He cast a look down that way, his mouth and throat too dry to properly clear and wondered whether the blond had suggested they do that first because he thought it best or because it was what he thought Chris wanted to hear. He squeezed Wesker's shoulder on instinct, not really even registering the action before taking point and inching down the walkway. He felt more and more paranoid as they got nearer, a desk with the input machine on it coming into view as his eyes periodically flitted about him. When he finally got there, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the blond was bringing up the rear, breathing painfully hard through his nose and resisting the urge to pant. Despite the circumstances, his hands were relatively stable as he adjusted his shotgun and retrieved the final MO disk from his pocket. As he went about printing out the third code, the blond stood a ways away with his handgun raised, watching his back.

Abruptly the clattery banging started up again in a strange rhythm, making the brunette physically jump. Wesker pivoted, gun aimed right at the ceiling as Chris growled under his breath at the machine to work faster. It sounded like something was running on all fours, Chris noticed, trying not to panic as what seemed like two more creatures joined the first, their pounding limbs echoing each other and sure as hell getting closer.

"About fucking time!" The brunette grit out, snatching up the slip of paper and shoving it into his vest pocket without so much as a glance. He spun, the monsters most definitely on them now and his eyes flew up to the ceiling above, where a gnarly, black form hung from the mesh. It hissed and Chris only just about dove out of the way, gunshots filling the air as Wesker fought another behind him. He sprung to his feet as the insect-like thing charged at him, and he took a shot at it, blowing it back from him. It released an ear-splitting screech and its siblings chorused, making the brunette feel like his ears would bleed as he took another shot. The thing was thrown onto its back from the proximity of the blast and Chris shot it again for good measure, not pausing to watch its legs curl inwards. He swung round but a second one, too fast for his reaction time, knocked him down and sent his shotgun skidding across the floor. He blocked its hairy, fly-like legs as best he could, throwing a hasty punch to its face but it seemed to do more damage to his knuckles.

Its claws continued to rake up his face and forearms as if in a frenzy and then Wesker was there, pumping it with bullets; he booted it off of the brunette when the latter failed to dislodge it. Chris immediately sat up, audibly panting as he watched the blond hold the creature down by his boot and empty the remainder of his clip into it. The abominations body oddly sizzled up and dissolved into a pool of black gook on the ground, sharing the same fate as its friends, Chris registered, distractedly glancing around. He snatched his eyes away. Wesker only looked a bit better off than him, a long bleeding cut running along his cheek. Mildly shell-shocked, Chris stayed put, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes and waiting for his heart to stop sprinting.

"Are you injured?" He glanced up at the blond's mildly breathless voice, staring at the proffered hand in front of him. How many times would this man save his life...? Rejecting the help, he pushed himself back up onto his feet and retrieved his shotgun. He wiped at the bloody scratches and cuts now decorating his skin before giving up as a result of merely smearing red everywhere. Wesker had been staring at him- he'd felt it like fire scorching his flesh- but when he didn't acknowledge it, the older man sighed and moved on.

"Were you ever gonna tell me...?" He bit his tongue the instant the words were out but he looked up to meet Wesker's curious yet wary gaze. Roughing up his hair in nervous habit, he walked to where the blond had stopped to look back at him. "You promised you'd tell me who the traitor was but when it came down to it, you tried to stop me seeing that photo." He looked Wesker straight in the eye, daring him to be honest for once.

"Believe me when I say this, Chris, I went into that room prepared for the backlash, prepared to face your perfectly justified anger."

"But?" Chris prompted forcefully, unnecessarily and Wesker released a languid breath, turning to face him head on.

"I weighed the situation and made a split-second decision." The blond's tone was serene but whether it was sincere remained to be seen as far as Chris was concerned. Even during the time he'd spent with this man without the shades on, before he'd found out, he still hadn't seen the truth in the ice-blue eyes; only seeing what he'd wanted to see, he suspected.

"Which was?"

"I already had doubts about your mental well-being and in the end, I decided that the best course of action- the best chance of our survival- was if you didn't find out until after we'd got out of this mess." Wesker's eyes narrowed infinitesimally at the half-hearted scoff of disbelief that the brunette emitted but otherwise his stoic features remained neutral. Chris shook his head a bit as though he could simply shake off the situation he was in but allowed the information to sink in, gaze flickering across the blond's face. One side of Wesker's mouth lifted in what Chris would only let himself read as a mockery of a sympathetic smile.

"I guess," he began, tone darkening with the clouds gathering within his eyes. "It's too bad you let that pretty act slip then, isn't it?" He looked away from the frown that swiftly formed on Wesker's face.

"I didn't," the blond denied almost sternly, catching Chris' gaze again before continuing. "Like I said before, I didn't keep you as blind to me as I should have."

"A rookie mistake, Wesker? From you?" Chris batted back haughtily but there wasn't much he could do about the glimmer of doubt, of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Not a mistake, merely a subconscious act on my part," Wesker corrected him.

"What the hells that supposed to mean?" He snapped, not having an ounce of patience for cryptic bullshit of this kind. "Just admit it, you're human just like the rest of us, even if you are a double-crosser." Wesker's expression seemed to get stuck somewhere between amused and annoyed but as he pinched his nose, it only flared Chris' feelings of anger and betrayal, vividly reminding him of the captain-mask the blond had been wearing for years on end.

"I never pretended otherwise," Wesker replied, suddenly sounding more world-weary than the brunette had ever heard him. Chris scowled but shut his mouth, listening to whatever the older man had to say. "It was you, Chris. I might have been the one manipulating you but that doesn't mean I wasn't open to your influence. I shouldn't have been but evidently, I was." The marksmen was already shaking his head in denial before the blond had finished speaking, free hand balling into a fist.

"I can't listen to any more of this, I really can't," he uttered, looking anywhere but at the traitor in front of him and turning away.

He was stopped however, by a strong hand grasping his green vest and pulling him back around. A second gloved hand pressed to his grazed cheek was all the warning he got before his mouth was covered by a warm, smooth texture. His breath left him as his eyes widened. Grip loosening significantly, it took all he had not to let his shotgun topple to the ground. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the proximity of Wesker's tanned face, senses adjusting to a mouth flush against his own, to an angular nose cushioned against the side of his. His heart was hammering sickeningly fast for his brain to keep up with as the blond tentatively brushed his lips against Chris' a second time, the latter's insides jolting at the faint swipe of a moist tongue. His lips parted on primal instinct, eyelids falling half-mast as his head slowly began to tilt, mouth moving to push back against their captor.

He caught himself however, sharply turning his face to the side and squeezing his eyes shut against the twist of protestation in his stomach. He wasn't going to fall for Wesker's tricks- he was stronger than that! He found himself repeating it like a mantra in his mind but despite that, despite the danger alarm going off in his head, he found himself immobilised. Only after a brief pause, Wesker had started up a trail of feather-light, slow kisses along his cheek, his jaw, hand gliding down to rest on the side of his neck, thumb massaging the sensitive skin found there. Even with the blond's hand being encased in the coarse material of his glove, Chris could imagine the sensation of skin on skin, causing his blood to boil in his veins. The older man's kisses were less passionate and more sensual, like velvet caresses and in being so dug even deeper beneath the brunette's skin, making coherent thought harder and harder to cling to. Chris simultaneously wanted it to stop and never end. He knew that the hatred at himself and the disgust for Wesker were only temporarily on hold, ready to re-emerge the second this moment ended but right then, Wesker had him incapacitated in every possible sense.

Sight glazed over, he felt his hand come up as if from a distance and close around Wesker's forearm. Hell knew whether the intended action had been to pull away or hold his ex-captain there. Nevertheless, he stood still, wanting to shut his eyes again at the seductive kisses the blond was now bestowing his neck at the hollow beneath his ear. When Wesker's breath tickled his ear, sending a deep pleasurable shudder down his spine, he stiffened. He couldn't allow this to go on any longer than it already had. Swiftly reclaiming control over himself, he violently pushed away, attempting to steady his laboured breathing.

"Don't," he said and shame washed over him anew at how weak and shaky he sounded. He steeled his expression, conjuring a defiant glare for the traitor; it was difficult looking Wesker in the eye and his gaze unfocused slightly to make it easier. He raised a fisted yet trembling hand to point at the blond for emphasis with his next words. "Don't touch me like that again." He didn't stay to see Wesker's reaction, reaffirming his grip on his shotgun and brushing past.

He wasn't running- this wasn't running away- it was moving on. That's what he told himself as he blindly navigated his way through the rest of the steamed up power room. It was all he could do to reassure himself, to quell the tempest raging through his stomach. He knew Wesker was following behind in his wake, although he never once glanced back to make sure. At this point, the majority of him didn't care if the blond snuck away while he wasn't looking. Anything to have the traitor gone so that he didn't have to think about him anymore. So that he could forget it all. Although, the smaller, more subdued part of him was glad the blond had stuck with him- he'd never forgive himself if he didn't see to it that Wesker paid for all his crimes, all the stolen lives of their comrades. That's all it was and he wouldn't ever stop reminding himself of that fact.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters song: Letter From The Sky by Civil Twilight

Skin flushed and shiny from the steam and heat, Chris had found himself in a large, rectangular room with a fenced-off structure of machinery situated in the centre. Circling around, he'd found a power panel with a switch to turn on the elevator, which he did gladly, feeling one step closer to the end of this nightmare. Turning back, he saw Wesker waiting by the double doors, astutely keeping his distance with his handgun at the ready. Chris' stomach flipped as he approached the blond, the latter keeping his back to him. He wondered if Wesker was pretending he didn't exist; was it some twisted kind of hurt pride at the rejection or was this detached manner for Chris' benefit? Showing Chris that he'd heard and understood him loud and clear that nothing was going to happen between them. Not now. It was beyond Chris why the older man had bothered to try, why he'd thought it would work. Although even as he thought that, shame overtook him at the fact that it nearly had. Loading and cocking his shotgun, he hesitated at the doors, glancing over to stare at the back of Wesker's head and opening his mouth to speak. Wesker's head tilted slightly, sensing his intentions but not enough to meet his gaze. For reasons unknown it made his throat constrict. No words came and he shut his mouth again, attempting to summon up his hatred and anger for the blond before going through the doors.

As they clanged shut behind them, an onslaught of rattling mesh, clicking and screeching reached their ears, signally more of those black human-insect like things. Chris barely had time to brace himself before one was hurtling round the corner of the walkway. He blew it back with a shell and took off at a run, dodging sideways as another swiped at him with one of its sticky, prickly, clawed limbs. He got behind it and bashed the back of its head with the butt of his shotgun, continuing on, hearing shots ring out behind him. He knew Wesker was dealing with the brunt of it this way but even as his instincts screamed at him to stop and assist, he didn't so much as look back. Their best bet was to get the hell out- if they tried to make a stand and kill them all, they'd end up cornered and ripped to shreds. There were just too many of them. He took a sharp left, his arm almost crashing against the rusted edge of the metal covered wall. An adrenaline-fuelled swell of relief hit him at the sound of a set of heavy-booted footsteps on his tail, despite the near-deafening shrieking and working machinery clouding his senses. He threw himself through the door, going straight instead of taking the narrow shortcut where the creatures could crowd them against the fencing.

He heard Wesker slam the door behind them and then the floor was taken from beneath him, his heart leaping into his mouth. One of them had been hanging from the ceiling mesh with its hind legs- its front claws had hooked into the backs of his shoulders, scraping against his shoulders blades. Another scurried round the corner up ahead while Wesker's bullets riddled the one above him. Ignoring the pain with difficulty, he dropped his shotgun and reached up to grip onto the creatures limbs as the one in front prepared to pounce atop his dangling body. He pushed back with his legs as hard as he could and then swung them forward, the flat of his feet smacking into the monsters face mid-leap. He cried out at the agony of his shoulder flesh tearing further but it cut off as he fell to the floor, struggling up from under the limp weight pinning him down. He scrabbled for his shotgun, blasting the one ahead of him onto its back and watching it dissolve. He clenched his teeth as claws were unceremoniously yanked out of his shoulders and then blearily focused his eyes on Wesker's form running in front of him, disappearing around the corner. Dizzily, he got to his feet and pivoted, jogging backwards and shooting at the two or three monsters charging at him, desperately trying to see straight. His back hit wall, causing him to grunt as the third one dropped, turning into black, sizzling chemicals. He cursed as yet another one sprung from the ceiling at the end of the pathway, his gun empty.

"Chris!" His head whipped to the right to see Wesker spin away from where he'd been holding the exit door open, to round-house an attacking mutant of his own. Facing forward again, he dodged sideways last minute so that his enemy collided with the wall with a skull-cracking sound. He didn't pause to see if it was dead, merely turned and sprinted towards Wesker and the door, ducking through it and bodily helping push it closed. One of the creature's head and claw were jarring it open but they both pulled back an inch and threw themselves against it again, successfully decapitating the vile thing and the door sealing shut. Chris collapsed back against the doors and instantly winced at the piercing throbbing in the backs of his shoulders.

"The hell are those things..." he panted, using a shaky hand to push himself back upright.

"Chimeras," Wesker muttered beside him, slicking back his tousled hair and reloading his gun. The brunette gingerly paced forward a couple of steps, rummaging in a pocket on his cargo pants for some shells to do the same. "They're human-fly hybrids, bound together by the T-virus." The blond frowned mildly at Chris' look of disgusted disbelief. "You asked."

"Will it hold them?" He inquired, glancing warily at the doors and effectively diverting the conversation.

"Yes, but they could escape through the ventilation system."

"Great." Scowling, he turned away and reached around to one of his shoulder blades. He hissed under his breath at the sting, his gloved fingers coming back bloody. He couldn't help but murmur out a curse, not wanting to waste any more time than was necessary but not wanting to risk bleeding out either. Drawn from his deliberating, he started at the feel of a hand grasping his upper arm, tensing and spinning round. Wesker was holding a first aid spray and wearing an impatient expression that seemed to say 'grow up'. Chris bristled, contemplating snatching the can from the blond's hand and blindly applying it himself, but he knew it would only take longer and he'd rather avoid resorting to childishness where condescending Wesker was involved. Releasing an irritated breath, he wordlessly put his back to the older man and closed his eyes. His hairs stood on end as he sensed Wesker close the space between them, causing him to frown and swallow harshly. He felt his muscles lock together when the blond carefully moved aside the torn scraps of his t-shirt and green vest around the first wound, the latter telling him to relax in an aggravatingly soothing voice. He hated that it worked, that the traitor's presence could still have a calming effect on him whether he wanted it to or not. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter as the medicinal spray began coating his damaged flesh, letting his mind wander for the time being.

* * *

_Chris jogged to a stop, panting heavily and bending over to lean his palms on his knees._

" _Damn, you're fast, Captain," he breathed out, grinning up at the blond who had already started his warm down stretches._

" _Don't be so hard on yourself, Chris," Wesker said with little inflection but there was a taunting upward curl to his mouth as he glanced down at him. "You weren't_ that _slow." The brunette chuckled lightly, shaking his head and straightening up, enjoying the crisp breeze against his bare arms. It was a nice contrast to the hot, damp patches sticking his navy tank top to his torso. He bent a leg up behind him, stretching his quads and placing a hand on his captain's shoulder to steady his balance. The blond copied the action; he knew it was for his benefit- that Wesker didn't need any help balancing- and for that he smiled in appreciation. Switching his legs after a moment, Wesker's hand still keeping him level, he eyed the damned, black shades his captain refused to part with._

" _How did they not fly off your head?" He pondered aloud, earning himself a patronising smile, but it didn't deter him, feeling in a humorous mood. "You were going so fast, you've gotta be gluing them to your head. You can tell me, you know. I won't tell anyone." His daring smirk widened when his captain pursed his lips, happily surprised to see an amused smile hiding in there._

" _Sorry to disappoint you, but there's no secret to tell," the blond retorted, his mouth thinning into a line but Chris could still see the lift in his angular features. "They really did just stay on." He laughed heartily at that, dropping his foot back to the floor and stretching his arm across his chest, holding it there._

" _Hmm, or you had a spare..." he faux-accused, sending his captain a sideways, crinkly-eyed grin. He watched Wesker allow a small smile to grace his face, one that told of simply indulging him but he was grateful all the same. It was rare for the blond to let this kind of teasing at his expense go on for more than a comment or two and the brunette flattered himself that it was because it was just the two of them. Perhaps he gave Chris permission because he knew there wasn't an ounce of malice behind it, maybe he even enjoyed it a little._

" _You think I carry around spare sunglasses on me?" Wesker asked dubiously as though it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard, cracking a triumphant yet brief grin across his face when Chris laughed again._

" _It's alright, Captain," the brunette told him with feigned sincerity once he'd regained some of his composure, placing a hand on his upper arm in 'understanding'. "Your secrets safe with me."_

* * *

Chris jolted out of his reverie at Wesker's hand tentatively touching his arm, forcing away the unwanted memories and shrugging off the hold. He turned around, adjusting the shotgun in his hands and meeting the blond's expectant gaze. What was he expecting, a 'thank you'? He shook off the nervous impulse to scoff, dropping his eyes and belatedly starting down the hallway that lead to the main area.

"Where are you going?" He heard Wesker demand, sounding somewhat startled. He halted at the door, sighing in annoyance.

"To free Jill."

"You can't," the traitor stated in a final tone that grated on him, making him turn sideways to glare at the older man. "There's an automatic lock on her cell door. The release is down in the B4 lab."

"Doesn't matter. She needs to know that she's safe- that I'm here to get her out," he quipped, tone brokering no argument. His expression turned sour as the blond pinched the bridge of his nose. "But you wouldn't understand that, would you?" Wesker's grey-blue eyes flashed up to his, narrowing infinitesimally.

"So we're back to this?"

"Back to what, Wesker?" He shot back, a multitude of emotions flaring up within him at the blond's incredulity.

"Catty remarks that solve absolutely nothing." He could tell that his ex-captain was reaching the end of his tether by the rise in his voice but he didn't give a damn. Wesker had no say in anything anymore- he'd thrown away that right when he'd lured them all into this hell; when he'd let their comrades die, when he'd killed Enrico in cold blood. Nothing he said or did was going to change any of that and Chris could only be relieved that he still had the clarity to see it.

"What would you have me say?" He muttered in a dangerous tone, facing Wesker head on with a defiant gleam in his deep blue eyes.

"The truth." He baulked, shaking his head roughly as the blond strode towards him in a clipped manner. He let out a bitter laugh before returning Wesker's frostily intense gaze.

"You wouldn't know the truth if it was standing right in front of you," he bit out in heated sarcasm, his heart beating achingly fast within his chest as he stared the blond down. Wesker took another step forward, towering over him slightly with the inch he had on him. He wanted to back up, regain some personal space but he knew he couldn't- it would be like backing down- so he stood tall, jutting up his chin.

"It  _is_  in front of me, Chris. Between us," the blond replied lowly, eyes fierce and bright as they trapped his, making it impossible to look away. "And I have always known it." Chris' lips parted, fear and hurt surging up his throat and threatening to suffocate him. He didn't want to see what was burning in Wesker's eyes but he  _could_  see it and he knew he would never be able to unsee it. It was that time-old, animalistic glint people got in their eyes when they set their sights on someone they wanted and wanted  _now_. Predatory, watchful, intent- there wasn't one word that could encompass that look. He never imagined Wesker would ever direct that look at him, never even thought about it. Not until their bonding moment an hour or so ago in the landscape room and even then, he had pushed thoughts of that nature as far to the back of his mind as possible.

The truth Wesker meant was the apparently mutual attraction and desire they had for each other but for Chris, it wasn't that deliciously, complicatedly simple anymore. 'That is no longer on the cards' was now indefinitely tacked onto the end of that truth; and it hurt. He hated Wesker for repeatedly reminding him of what the man had already ruined. Hated him for a kiss that was never going to cease circling around the back of his head like a hungry shark, seeking tainted food. He hated that he'd cared enough about the traitor to hate him in the first place.

There were so many spiteful responses he could toss in Wesker's face right then but when it came down to it, all of them would be empty and they would both know it. So he didn't say anything. Slowly, he inched his face away from where they'd been so close that they were inhaling each other's fumes and his body followed, inching away from the welcoming, tempting heat of Wesker's. The blond's fine eyebrows knitted together in an unreadable expression, the fire gradually dying in his eyes and leaving ashes that smothered any trace of blue. He'd thought putting space between them would make breathing easier but as he turned back towards the door, his lungs felt punctured, bleeding freely.

* * *

It was a short, brisk jog back to the triple-locked door that held Jill's cell beyond and Chris wasted no time retrieving the crumpled up code slip from his vest pocket. Wesker stood a noticeable distance away, his back to him as if merely standing guard. The brunette didn't try to guess at his thoughts, they had always alluded him even in the best of times. Breaking his momentary distraction, he ran his eyes over the final part of bible scripture quoted on the slip before inputting the code.

'and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me."'

(Genesis 22:18)

 _Blessed_. Chris had to stifle the vomit that wanted out of his stomach at the thought of Umbrella 'blessing' the world with the T-virus. The damage and destruction an outbreak of it had done to a mansion and research facility alone had been horrific- the idea of the same terror being wrought out in civilisation was immensely worse. He wasn't naïve enough to assume that this place was the corporation's only facility but if destroying it and gathering incriminating evidence along the way threw a spanner in Umbrella's plans, it was certainly a good place to start. Quickly inputting the third code, he listened as the double doors emitted an electronic click. He almost glanced back at Wesker's approaching footsteps but caught himself, instead taking a deep breath and opening one of the stiff doors.

Coming into a grey, concrete corridor to the right, he hastily followed the path and rounded a corner to an aluminium cell door with a barred, letter-box window. There was a security camera positioned in a corner of the ceiling, trained on the door but since there was no one left alive anyway, he paid it no mind. He didn't however, miss how Wesker stayed back and out of sight, leaning a shoulder against the wall adjacent.

"Chris!" He heard a familiar female voice say as he peered through the bars into the grimy cell with the grimier single bed shoved into a corner.

"Jill," he said, bracing his palms on the door as his partner hurried over to him. She looked drained but determined and his heart panged with pride.

"Chris," the woman with the mousy-brown hair began urgently. "Wesker's the-"

"I know," he interrupted her not unkindly, feeling guilty at the fact that the person in question was with him and had been for quite some time now. She nodded once in understanding, her fair, tired features gaining an almost sympathetic tint. He glanced away in acute trepidation before busying himself looking over the door and trying it for good measure. As Wesker had warned, it didn't budge and he relayed the information to Jill. "Don't worry, Jill, I'm gonna get you out of here." Curling his hands around the bars tightly, he watched her scrub her face, nodding absently and giving him a weak smile.

"Did you..." she trailed off, releasing a shuddering breath and pressing closer against the door. "Did you find any of the others? I found Forest..." The brunette wanted to tear the door off its hinges at the look of grief and distress that shone in Jill's eyes, the memory of Forest's ice-cold body flitting to the forefront of his mind. The man had looked like he'd been pecked to death by those mutant crows. He had to squeeze his eyes shut at the image of his fallen comrade, reopening them after a desolate moment when he felt Jill's hands clasping his where they were wrapped around the bars.

"Jill...they were all dead or as good as. Me and Rebecca, we saved Richard but later on he..." Chris swallowed shallowly as she bit her lip savagely to fight off the tears threatening to spill over her eyelids. The ire gradually darkening her features reassured him in as much as it told him she wasn't going to break down completely, not yet and he could use some of her strength right now. "I haven't seen Barry but uh, Wesker told me he's alive..."

"I bet he is," Jill muttered scathingly but she sighed at his confusion, not elaborating. "And Rebecca, she's still...?"

"So far as I know. She should be catching up with us pretty soon," he smiled fleetingly, gazing sadly at his partner for a long second. Movement in the corner of his eye had him stilling, seeing Jill's crystal-clear gaze shift past him before widening in shocked recognition.

"Chris, we don't have time for this."

"Wesker?!" She hissed out vehemently and he sent the traitor a stormy glare that the latter merely folded his arms in response to, ever expressionless. "Chris! What are you  _doing_? You can't trust him!"

"It's not what you think, Jill," the brunette defended, positioning himself so that Wesker was blocked from her view.

"Chris, he's the reason everyone's dead-" she berated him, pushing back from the door and splaying her hands in front of her, but he cut her off, ending her tirade before she could really begin.

"Don't you think I know that, Jill?!" His voice dropped in volume, the pain and fury flickering in his eyes as he cast his gaze down, seeing nothing. "I couldn't believe it at first...but then it all started to make sense. Why he was always so damn busy all the time, why he'd randomly skip out on work every so often and then come in the next day looking completely the same and not ill at all." He paused to meet her gaze again, his own visibly forlorn. She looked like she was about to say something but seemed to think better of it. "I  _don't_  trust him, Jill. If you think that I could after finding out the truth, then-"

"I'm sorry, Chris," she said so softly that he almost didn't hear her. He started to shake his head, to tell her that there was no need to apologise but she continued. "I know this probably hit you harder than anyone else." She stepped forward once more, putting her hands back atop his.

"Did he hurt you?" He murmured solemnly after he'd recovered a bit from the awkwardness. She scrunched up her forehead faintly, taking a moment to study his features before shaking her head.

"No, he didn't. He pretty much just slung me in here and left. I didn't make it easy though," she said with a small smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes. He returned the gesture half-heartedly before sighing in exhaustion. "Chris, what are you doing with him? What's the plan?" She asked gently as if she thought he might fly off the handle again.

"He's gotta pay for what he's done, Jill. I'm putting him behind bars as soon as we get back to the RPD," he said gravely, staring into her eyes. "Killing him won't bring them back...and death would be too good for him anyway."

"I just..." She pressed his hands in comfort as she searched for the right words, reaching up with a hand to straighten her beret out of habit. "Are you sure you know what you're doing with him?"

"Of course, Jill, you don't need to worry about a thing. We'll get you out of here in no time and then you can watch my back, okay?" She was giving him a strange look despite the firm reassurance he was displaying and he felt himself tense up.

"How do you know he's not just playing you, Chris?" She insisted almost helplessly and for a moment he froze, finally managing to decipher the subtle quality to her face.  _She knows_ , he thought. Rather, she knew about his feelings for Wesker and that's why she was doubting him this way. He couldn't help but respond like a deer caught in the headlights. "How do you know he won't stab you in the back the first chance he gets and leave us here to die?"

"He won't," he replied adamantly but under his breath, not wanting to have this conversation right where Wesker could hear them, but having little choice. "If he was going to do that, he's had plenty of chances."

" _Chris_!"

"You don't have to trust him, Jill!" He argued unwaveringly in hushed tones, reversing their hands so that he could squeeze hers in assurance. "Trust  _me_." He paused to let his words sink in, watching the anxiety and hope battling it out across the milky plains of her face. "He won't do anything stupid while he thinks he has something to gain being partnered up with me."

"And what's that?" He could plainly hear and read the implication tagged onto that question, despite the evident worry taking precedence in her expression.

"Combat data," he retorted stonily, daring her to make any more allusions to his and Wesker's questionable affiliation. "Nothing more, nothing less." She returned his gaze for a long minute, her concern genuine and tugging uncomfortably at his heartstrings.

"Okay...okay..." She nodded, taking a couple deep breaths and flashing him a half-smile. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"I know, Jill, I know. Everything's gonna be fine, I promise," he told her confidently, reaching through the bars to cup her cheek momentarily. "Now, I'm gonna go and get this door open and I'll be back."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna get us all out of here."

"Not without me watching your back, you won't," she joked faintly and they shared a partly warm, partly forced chuckle.

"You better get ready then, Partner," he said in parting, reluctantly stepping back from the door. Her smile widened ever so slightly as she watched him make to depart, swiping roughly at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"And Chris?" He hesitated, turning towards her. "Be careful." He gave her a two-fingered salute before brushing past Wesker and returning the way they came.

* * *

Chris felt invigorated now that he'd seen Jill alive and breathing for himself and hadn't merely taken Wesker's word for it. All that was left now was for Rebecca and Barry to show up and they'd be ready to get the hell out of here. He refused to consider the possibility that the family man and petite rookie were dead or trapped some place. He knew they wouldn't be able to wait around for them forever; the longer they took to level the facility and therefore eradicate the virus, the greater the chance of the outbreak spreading to the city. A number of 'animal attacks' had already been reported- a clear sign that the virus had been creeping closer and closer to Raccoon- and Chris would do anything to prevent that from happening.

Making it back to the t-shaped area, the brunette detoured to the rest room to retrieve the magnum he'd left there previously. He set down the shotgun to shovel as many magnum rounds as possible into his pockets, checking to make sure the gun was fully loaded. His heartbeat spiked at the sensation of being watched and he snuck a glance over his shoulder to see Wesker leaning back against the wall beside the door, arms folded deceptively casually over his chest.

"Do you remember that bank heist, Chris?" The marksmen's guarded eyes met the blond's for a second before he refocused his attention on organising his inventory, remaining silent. "You took two bullets to the leg. It was fortunate that they both missed your femoral artery but you were bleeding badly, could barely walk let alone take down bank robbers." Wesker's voice was a velvet murmur in the quiet room, his tone lightly laced with something akin to nostalgia. "It was like organised chaos, smoke grenades everywhere, gunfire, everyone sticking to formation as much as was manageable.

"You and I got separated from the others; you hadn't long been a member of STARS and I'd been keeping an eye on you, not yet sure how much of a loose cannon you really were." Chris swallowed thickly, twisting half-way round to regard his ex-captain with scepticism. Where exactly was he going with this? What did he hope to achieve by reminiscing about the past after everything that had happened? "I had to pull you into a stationary closet out of harms way. I did what I could for your wound and then I told you I'd be back with medical help once the siege was over. Do you remember what you did?" He waited for an answer but when Chris could only scowl and look away, he continued. "You begged me to stay. I was surprised at the time- you had been nothing but a problem for me up until that point, with your attitude and less than acceptable punctuality. I was certain you couldn't stand me but nevertheless you begged me not to leave you there."

"For all the good it did," Chris muttered finally, bracing his hands on his hips and staring at the floor. "You still left."

"Of course I did. There was still a job to do, one I couldn't afford to sit out of," Wesker replied dismissively, pushing up from the wall and stepping towards him. "I told you I'd come back for you and then I broke the handle off the door so that no one would be able to get to you. I bruised up my shoulder breaking that door down when I returned...It all worked out in the end-"

"Get to the point, Wesker," Chris snapped tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face. Wesker had complained about time running short not minutes prior and now here he was monologuing. He sighed and faced the older man fully, the latter not too close, not too far.

"My point is, Chris, that I kept my word. I came back for you and you got out perfectly fine." The brunette eyed Wesker's unflinching gaze, not quite sure how to react as he read the nearest thing to sincerity written across his tanned features. "I know you don't trust me and considering the circumstances, I'd be disappointed if you did but..." The blond let out a somewhat pent-up sigh at the disbelief fast forming on Chris' face. "If you could bring yourself to trust me even the slightest bit, things could go a lot smoother from here on out."

"And how exactly do you figure that? We've been doing fine as it is- maybe that's because I  _haven't_  been trusting you," Chris pointed out sharply, highly suspicious of what Wesker was trying to do.

"Actually you've put your trust in me a number of times already. You said it yourself, there've been plenty of opportunities for me to kill you or escape." Wesker was serious and yet coaxing as he stared back at Chris, causing the latter to shift a little in unease. It was so like Wesker to be logical and perceptive, not missing a thing. Always right where Chris was wrong. "But I've done neither, Chris and that fact alone is all I ask you put your trust in."

"What are you saying-?"

"Chris, in the simplest of terms," Wesker said slowly, deliberately, rephrasing in a way that he knew the brunette couldn't misunderstand. Chris was barely refraining from losing his temper, gritting his teeth at the audacity of the blond. "No matter what happens, trust that I will keep my word and get the both of us out of here. That should we get separated somehow, I will come back for you, as I've always done." It took him a long, drawn-out moment to think through what was being asked of him. Looking at Wesker's face, one that was almost every bit as mysterious to him now as it had been with the permanent, black shades, it was hard to remember why he shouldn't put his faith in the man. An altogether too big part of him wanted nothing more than to trust the traitor, to believe that he did care about him in some minuscule way and as a result wouldn't abandon him. However, the truth was he didn't need Jill's warnings, didn't need to spend time over-analysing the situation to know that in all good conscience, he would never again be able to put his faith in this snake of a man. "You don't have to answer me now, or at all. I simply wanted to say my piece. Just...think about it, Chris."

He couldn't tell if Wesker had seen or guessed that he was about to deny his request and hence tacked that last bit onto the end. It made no difference regardless; and as he turned back around, only to immediately feel the butt of a gun thwack against the back of his head, his last thought before losing consciousness was that he had made the correct decision.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters song is: Ask For Answers by Placebo

" _Chris...?"_

" _Chris!"_

" _Wha...?"_

" _You promised you'd give me a ride to school today."_

" _I did...?"_

" _CHRIS."_

" _Alright, alright...just...five more minutes..."_

" _Chris~"_

" _Claire, please...just five more minutes..."_

* * *

The marksmen came to drowsily, feeling a slight chill to his skin and blinking rapidly against the bright lights.

"Claire...?" He uttered in a raspy voice as he struggled up onto his elbows, wincing at an immediate throbbing at the back of his head. He raised his hand, fingertips brushing against gauze that had been tightly wrapped there and then glanced down at his bare torso. Thickly layered bandages covered his chest, winding around his sore shoulders and back. He cast his gaze around the boxy room- the rest room in the underground facility, he instantly recalled- and everything flooded back to him.  _Wesker, the bastard_. He'd knocked him out and then...cleaned and dressed his wounds? Chris' conflicted gaze fell on a table blocking the door, slightly wonky from where Wesker must have left a gap to squeeze out through. He almost laughed, as absurd as the impulse was.  _So he's really taking that promise seriously?_

With a lethargic sigh, he covered his eyes with a palm of his hand, his and his ex-captain's previous conversation playing on repeat in his mind. He understood that Wesker had got it into his head that despite already being a traitor to the STARS, he owed it to Chris to get the latter out of this mess in one piece, but then why all the rest? Why the mind games? Why the teasing and goading? Surely, it would have been a better plan to rush Chris through to the end of this nightmare instead of dilly-dallying and toying with his emotional attachment to him. All Wesker had had to do was disarm him, point a gun at his head and tell him to get marching. He'd always been faster, too quick for Chris to see coming. So why the show of compliance? Why play the criminal in police custody act? He could have got the both of them out and to safety by simply taking one of the opportunities presented to him and knocked Chris off his guard. Was it all an elaborate way of 'granting' Chris the time to find the others first?

"What do you want from me?" The brunette sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, shaking his head. He didn't know why he still bothered trying to figure the blond out after all these years, especially not after the latest revelation. It was a wholly pointless exercise and now he had catch up to do. Wesker was definitely down in that top security lab but for how long had he been there, Chris had no clue. Trying not to hurry and cause dizziness from the head injury, he got to his feet, reaching for his hole-riddled t-shirt and vest that had been neatly folded and laid out on the end of the bed. Once dressed, he double-checked his weapons were fully loaded and his pockets were still lined with ammunition and herbs before holstering the handgun and magnum, and readying the shotgun in his hands.

He shoved the table out of the way and left into the hall, jogging round to the elevator and pressing the call button. At least he didn't have to deal with zombies while he waited, he thought as adrenaline and impatience began to trickle through his veins. His ears pricked at the sound of a door softly opening and closing, but after a tense, blood-pounding silence, he shrugged it off as his mind playing tricks on him. _Tap-tap-tap-tap_.

"Chris!" The person in question spun around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, but as he took in the sight of a petite, brown haired girl in front of him, he lowered his gun in immense relief.

"Rebecca!" He stepped towards her as she bent down to brace her hands on her knees, catching her breath.

"I saw you in the garden," she panted, straightening up to offer a weak smile. "I finally caught up." Chris returned the smile easily.

"Thank God you're safe. No more following, just stay with me, kid," he told her, catching himself from pulling her into an awkward bear hug and giving her shoulder a tight squeeze instead.

"Yessir," she nodded in agreement, blowing out a breath and half-heartedly swatting his hand away from ruffling her boy-cut hair. Having the rookie back under his wing was one thing off his shoulders. His eyes darkened as he anticipated the confrontation with Wesker, absently boarding the elevator when the doors opened for them. He knew he should feel more angry, more betrayed but he couldn't deny that the fact Wesker had tended to his wounds before ditching had softened the blow somewhat; and he hated that. All the blond's strange, contradictory actions would make sense if he truly cared about Chris but the latter couldn't allow himself to believe that, not even for a second. That man was too dangerous.

The hard swallow Rebecca emitted was clearly audible in the quiet of the elevator and he glanced down at her slowly. Her head was bowed, her hand clutching something hanging on the necklace she was wearing.

"What's that?" He asked gently so as not to startle her, distracted momentarily by his curiosity. She visibly tensed, wordlessly tucking the necklace beneath her gear but not before Chris caught a glimpse of what she'd been holding so dearly. "Dog tags?" She stared straight ahead, clenching her teeth against the mild tremor in her jaw.

"A lot happened before you guys showed up." There was no accusation in her voice but he felt guilt stab at his gut like needles all the same, making him shift in discomfiture.

"Rebecca..." he began tentatively, at a loss for what to say.

"They belonged to a friend," she murmured, closing her eyes briefly but a fond smile shone across her pixie-like features. "When we landed, we split up to investigate. Kinda wish we hadn't now...Anyway, I was alone for a while but then this guy found me. We didn't get along at first." She laughed a little and Chris smiled. "Eventually, we agreed to cooperate and well...we kept each other alive. If I hadn't met him, I don't know what would've happened to me." The elevator had come to a stop but his gaze remained on his comrade, muscles tightening at the question perched on his tongue.

"...Where is he?" If anything, her features grew guarded rather than desolate and there was a steely determination glimmering in her dove-blue eyes when they met his.

"He didn't make it." His eyebrows furrowed at the answer he had been expecting, empathising with her pain as he remembered their lost STARS brothers.

"I'm sorry, Rebecca." He rubbed circles on her back lightly in an attempt to share the burden, but she shook her head dismissively.

"It's okay, Chris," she said resolutely, staring forward once more. "I'm done with crying. I got it all out of my system after Richard...So let's just get this over with, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded once in assent, offering a tired but reassuring smile. They exited the elevator and headed to the lab, steps swift but measured and Chris taking point. A shiny steel door slid up to allow their entry when they approached it and he instinctively reaffirmed the grip on his shotgun. He stepped inside with his gun raised, eyes flickering sideways to the rows of human-sized capsule tanks full of toxic green coloured liquid. His eyelashes fluttered at the way too white florescent lights, a headache starting at his temples. A queasy feeling swished around in his stomach and his gaze quickly followed the sound of clicking computer keys. Zeroing in on the sight of Wesker, he attempted to calm his nerves and regain his focus.

"Wesker!" He called out, tone tainted with as much rage and frustration as he could muster.

"So you've come." The blond's back was to him, obscuring his expression but his voice sounded annoyingly pleased. "Chris, you make me proud."

"Cut the bullshit!" Chris growled, rushing forward from where he had hesitated. He twisted Wesker round to face him, fingers gripping the traitor's upper arm like a vice. "What the hell have you done?!"

"Chris!" Rebecca admonished sharply behind him. "What's gotten into you?! You can't treat Captain Wesker that way." He froze, realising belatedly that she was still in the dark about their so-called captain. His deep blue eyes locked with Wesker's, bristling at the mild amusement he could read within them. The blond pried his fingers off, averting his gaze past him to Rebecca with an air of infinite patience.

"It's alright, Chambers. Tensions are running high at the moment as should be expected. Chris didn't mean anything by it. Did you?" The brunette glared at him, seeing the smug challenge in his eyes and wanting to punch it off his face. He had a difficult decision to make, that was clear. If he didn't tell Rebecca what their 'captain' really was, that he had murdered her team leader, it would be like covering for the man. However, if he did tell her all of those things, there was no knowing just how violently she would react. She'd want Wesker dead, that was certain but how far would she go? Would Chris be able to talk her down from doing something rash that she might regret? Did he even want to risk that?

"Chris?" She prompted surprisingly harshly and he looked back over his shoulder to see her confused face glancing between them. He sighed in defeat, returning to heatedly staring Wesker down.

"Just a misunderstanding, Rebecca," he stated in an unavoidably cold tone, scowling when the blond raised one fine eyebrow in feigned surprise. He backed off against his will to turn halfway towards the petite rookie. "Wesker's right- tensions are running high- but we all need to pull together through this." Rebecca took a moment to split a long, sceptical look between them, her forehead creasing in obvious worry.

"What's going on?" She demanded, her voice jumping up an octave, evidently not believing either of them. Chris looked to Wesker without really meaning to, the latter looking as impressed as he felt, albeit less begrudgingly.

"Nothing important, I assure you," Wesker said with serene authority, ignoring the way the brunette was eyeing him. Watching the blond slip that captain-mask back on so effortlessly weirded Chris out to no end and he took an uneasy step back from the man, taking a protective stance beside Rebecca. "Rebecca, Chris, we need to gather as much evidence against Umbrella as we can from this lab before extraction. Those are your orders, now get to it. We have little time." Chris disliked the way Wesker addressed him as well, but reluctantly kept his mouth shut.

"Understood, Captain," Rebecca chimed without missing a beat, however as she moved past them, she stopped. "I have no problem being on a need to know basis. As long as I  _am_  told what I need to know."

"Don't worry, Rebecca, this will all be over soon." Chris wanted to scoff at the traitor's 'kind' words of encouragement, training his eyes pointedly at the floor until it was over. He noticed the man's sly eyes regarding him after a few seconds, narrowing his own. He glanced quickly after Rebecca, confirming she was already busy getting to work and then he stepped forward, unabashedly crowding into Wesker's personal space. Wesker merely smirked down at him.

"What have you done with the combat data?" He demanded in rough, hushed tones, looking over his shoulder one more time to make sure Rebecca wasn't paying them any attention.

"Right here," the blond answered in an innocent manner that immediately grated on his nerves. He snatched the disk out of Wesker's poised hand, watching his features shrewdly, but it only served to draw a low chuckle from him. "Honestly, Chris-"

"And the other one," he interrupted, gesturing with two fingers for Wesker to hand his own copy over. Wesker's eyebrows arched, but he didn't look nearly as satisfyingly amazed as Chris had hoped. He sneered as the corner of the blond's mouth twitched upwards, but when it dropped again almost instantly and Wesker turned away with a finger to his earpiece, his own mouth opened in shock. He couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to him to demand the man remove that thing. "Is someone talking to you right now? Who the hell is it?!" Wesker put a hand on his chest to ward him off, capturing his gaze with his own, more blue due to the laboratory lighting and serious to a fault.

"I'm here, Will," the blond murmured into the headset, eyes dropping away from Chris', although his hand remained where it was.  _Will?_  Chris questioned mentally, suspicion and a little of something else crawling up his spine as he studied the troubled frown upon Wesker's angular face. "Everything is fine, don't worry...You need to  _calm down_." The brunette was looking at him so intensely that when the blond's eyes flew up to meet his, he almost jumped; an inscrutable shadow passed over Wesker's face before he spoke again in a clipped tone. "No, I haven't. I'm not so sure it will be necessary anymore...Yes, I know that, Will...Perhaps you should start looking for someone else...You'll have my answer when this is done. Stay safe." Without hesitation, Wesker ripped the headset off and crushed it beneath his boot, thereby severing all contact with Umbrella without a backwards glance.

"What was that all about?" Chris started interrogating him, brandishing his shotgun needlessly as the unsettling feeling hovering over him intensified. Wesker's eyes flitted across the lab and Chris automatically followed his gaze to see Rebecca watching them minutely. She looked upset, probably unsure of how to react to the way her comrade and supposed captain were behaving towards each other. Chris swallowed with difficulty, trying to send her a genuine smile and failing miserably. The petite girl released a small sigh before walking away out of sight as though to give them some privacy.

"It was nobody," Wesker answered finally, eyes narrowing infinitesimally at the brunette's show of disbelief. "It was a friend of mine. He can get a bit worked up sometimes, that's all. Working for Umbrella has made him rather paranoid."

"Does he know about your plan?" Chris asked with stifled ferocity, but he lowered his gun a fraction, trying to steady his breathing.

"Yes, he does," Wesker replied in calculated earnest, unflinching under Chris' stare. "But as I said, he's a friend. I trust him." The brunette didn't like this one bit. Maybe it was the fact that this man-  _Will_ \- was a part of Wesker's real life, something he knew next to nothing about. Maybe it was the way Wesker had spoken to him, the familiarity in his voice, the veiled concern he could have sworn was gleaming in his eyes. Chris' eyebrows furrowed in a kind of agitation he wasn't used to, eyes dropping to the disk in his hand.

"You're gonna show me what's on both of these disks," he stated in a commanding tone, lifting his eyes and studiously ignoring the knowing quality to the blond's expression. "And then I'm gonna hold onto them."

"They both contain the recorded combat data, Chris-" Wesker began irritatingly peaceably, but he cut him off.

"Once I see it with my eyes, then I'll believe it. Maybe," the brunette retorted sarcastically, flashing an edged smirk of his own at Wesker's faint exasperation. Wesker took the disk from his hand and returned to the computer he'd been working at previously, Chris standing close behind his right shoulder and watching the screen.

* * *

"Satisfied?" Wesker asked once he'd finished showing Chris the contents of the disks and placed one in his fingerless-gloved hand.

"So you managed to tell the truth this one time. Good for you, Wesker," the marksmen quipped half-heartedly, his side leaning against the computer panel. "The other one?" He added impatiently, holding his palm out. Wesker took a moment to scan his weary features, a miniscule smile gradually lightening his own.

"Alright, Chris," the blond said smoothly, his smile widening a tad as he placed the disk in Chris' waiting hand. "Don't lose them."

"Yeah. Whatever." Chris rolled his eyes, tucking them into a pocket on his cargo pants and straightening up. He opened his mouth again to speak but paused, finding his thoughts derailing onto a topic it probably wasn't a good time to bring up at the moment, if there ever would be a good time. Seemingly sensing that Chris had a bone to pick with him, Wesker folded his arms and leant back against the panel, gazing sideways at him.

"Really, Wesker?" He began lowly, incredulity coating his tone as the traitor raised an inquisitive brow. "You changed my bandages? Why? Why even bother..."

"Well, I did knock you out," the blond returned in a teasing lilt as if Chris would appreciate that. It was hard not to see the way Wesker's expression softened considerably and he found his hand subconsciously reaching for the back of his neck. "I couldn't leave you out cold and utterly defenceless."

"Yeah, Wesker, you could have," Chris argued but the fire in his eyes had died before it could fully ignite. He scrubbed his face with a hand. "Forget it. It doesn't even matter, but just so you know, your little trust speech back there? Ain't no way that's happening now." He breathed out as he turned to retrieve his shotgun from where he'd set it down, but the blond stopped him in his tracks. Wesker had reached out and stroked up the inside of his fingers with one of his own, curving round and caressing the back of his hand. Eyes flying over to glower disgustedly at him, Chris faltered. He'd expected the usual self-confident bordering on taunting smirk but the blond wasn't even looking at him, only at their hands with a careful mixture of curiosity and contentment. A jagged lump formed in his throat and he turned his back on the man, holding his hand in the other briefly before picking up his gun and clearing his throat.

He turned back around with a haughty scowl that clashed with the painful pang of his heart but he was distracted by Rebecca standing not too far from them. She was staring fearfully up at something several paces in front of her. He wandered over, feeling Wesker's gaze burning a hole in the side of his face but he refused to acknowledge what had just happened.

"Rebecca? You doing okay?" He inquired evenly but she jumped all the same, hand flying to her chest. "Sorry," he said, concern growing as he saw her shudder. Frowning, he looked to what had got her so spooked. "What the-?!" He half-stumbled back, throwing an arm out as though to shield the young girl. He didn't know how he could have missed what was so obviously this labs main feature.

The thing was gigantic, thick eyelids closed over the bulging eyes beneath. It looked almost like it was floating within the embryonic-like fluid. It was covered in bulging red, blue and purple veins that mapped across the large, deathly pale plains of its limbs. Its heart was exposed, one of its crimson arteries extending up onto the things face as though it was some kind of grotesque growth, ropey red veins running down from the top of its head to criss-cross at the bridge of its nose. There were no lips, only clenched yellow teeth that made the monster look like it was grinning malevolently. Its right thigh had a nasty nest of boil-like protrusions, the skin surrounding them discoloured a blackish-grey.

Chris swallowed down the bile trying to force its way up his throat, the sick feeling that had been gnawing at his stomach since entering the lab stronger now and giving him a disorientating sense of vertigo. The part of the abomination that he couldn't tear his gaze away from however, were the vicious claws that had grown out of its arm in place of a normal hand. The tips were sharp and textured like bone and the longest one of them appeared to be the same length as the monsters thighs.

"The ultimate life-form, Tyrant." He started simultaneously at the twitch of the things hand and at the subdued voice that sounded from beside him. He didn't know how long Wesker had been standing there but with the warmth of his body heat radiating onto his side, Chris couldn't help but feel glad at the man's proximity. The bridge of Wesker's nose was creased in what seemed like disappointment, but the brunette couldn't tell where the emotion stemmed from. Disappointment at the fruit of Wesker's research being a failure or at the prospect of having to destroy it? Wesker looked down at him then, emotion now expertly schooled away as he ran his gaze across Chris' drawn features. Chris forced himself to look forward again, gritting his teeth momentarily.

"This must be the experiment that was on that slide reel..." he uttered, hating the shaky quality to his voice. He tried to loosen up the grip on his gun, his fingers all but numb and sweaty as was his forehead, soiling the gauze wrapped around his head.

"I've...I've seen something like this before..." Rebecca spoke up finally, her voice trembling ever so slightly. Chris' head snapped in her direction. "I-It was yesterday...or rather, the early hours of this morning. Anyway, I had to fight it. I think there was something wrong with it though, it kept jerking and twitching like it was having some kinda seizure..." Chris continued to stare at her, in pure awe at the revelation that their little rookie had not only fought one of these things, but had survived to tell the tale. She was a member of STARS after all. There were so many things he wanted to say to her in response, both appropriate and otherwise but he found himself quieting to a much softer, fonder tone.

"Your friend helped you out...?" The medic glanced up at him with a heart-breaking smile but a smile nonetheless, which the brunette returned.

"Yeah- the second time," she replied, the ghost of a mischievous grin curling up the corners of her mouth and cutting through the ominous tension. "The first time I took it down myself." Chris felt a laugh bubble to his lips and he couldn't hold it in, as thin and tired as it was. He reached out and ruffled Rebecca's hair, relishing in the somewhat lighter atmosphere as though it were a light at the end of a seemingly endless tunnel; and in a way, it was. The knowledge that Rebecca had been able to take on a vile creature such as this and live, gave him hope. If things were to go even further south before they managed to get out of here, he now knew without a doubt, they would make it. No one else was going to die today, not on his watch.

"To defeat a Tyrant...that is truly commendable, Rebecca, to say the least." Chris enjoyed the faint note of admiration in Wesker's voice, glancing up to appraise his subtly proud expression.

"Thank you, Captain Wesker," Rebecca said, looking equal parts embarrassed and pleased by the recognition. "I never imagined my first day as a member of STARS would be quite so...like this, but I'm still breathing."

"And I guess you could say you can  _thank your lucky STARS_  for that," Chris joked shamelessly, beaming down at her with his old boyish charm. He didn't know what it was about Rebecca that brought these classy puns out of him. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of his sister.

"Oh, Chris, not again," she complained openly, but she giggled despite herself. "The root of the problem was bad enough." Chris nudged her with his elbow, chuckling heartily for a few extended moments before he allowed himself to sober up once more. He peeked at Wesker, a morsel of unwanted chagrin creeping up on him; the blond's hand rested on his hip, his gaze downcast but a thoughtful smile was gracing his face.

"Captain," Rebecca said in a more serious tone, gaining the both of their attention. "I found a file- apparently there's still a lot of T-virus here. We should blow this whole place up."

"That was the plan," Wesker responded with a firm nod. "Can we leave that up to you, Rebecca?"

"I'm on it," she returned confidently, straightening her white kevlar vest. "I'll start the self-destruct sequence I found a little while ago." With that, she made to head out but Chris called out to her last minute.

"Here, take this with you," he said, offering her his shotgun. "You'll need it more than I will...Go on, take it."

"...Okay," she relented after brief contemplation, having spotted his magnum. "Thanks, Chris."

"See you on the outside," he told her gently as he handed over a number of spare shells.

"Outside," she agreed with a fleeting smile before jogging away from them and out of the lab.

"Okay," the brunette breathed out warily, turning to face Wesker. "How do we get Jill's cell open?" If the blond registered the drop in tone and attitude, he didn't comment on it, simply gestured for Chris to follow him. At the back of the lab, there were yet more computer panels set up. Chris hung back, leaving Wesker to do the honours; he wasn't going to turn his back on the traitor a second time, not now that they were alone, but he kept close enough to watch what Wesker was doing. A prompt flashed up on the screen after a couple of seconds to 'release the emergency electronic lock' and Wesker selected 'Yes' before wordlessly leading the way back to the front of the lab.

Monitoring the blond's movements as covertly as possible, he opened a file that had been left lying about on the desk space next to the computers that displayed the Tyrant's vitals.

 _Should probably gather as much info as I can before the self-destruct sequence goes off..._ He muttered inwardly to himself, eyes skimming notes on Umbrella's 'promising' test subject. He tried not to picture it, keeping his gaze on the papers in front of him but he couldn't shake the alien feeling of a menacing presence in the room with them.

"You won't find very much," Wesker warned calmly from beside him, a little ways away. "It's all reports and observations on the Tyrant. Any names you come across will most likely belong to the dead." Chris grunted non-committally, attempting to drown out the blond's voice as best he could.

"Chris..." He stilled at the breath against his ear, fingers hovering in the air where they'd been about to turn a page. He sensed Wesker's towering frame at his back, cursing himself for dropping his guard. "Don't you think we need to talk about this?" Chris pivoted around, the hairs on his arms standing on end and both his anger and panic levels fluctuating.

"There's nothing left to say, Wesker," he stated, words and posture stiff, unyielding. "When are you gonna get that through your skull?" The blond's piercing gaze was fixed on his and he felt his blood beginning to simmer in response, his hands coming up to grip the edge of the table behind him. His resolve all but scattered when Wesker abruptly took a step forward and braced his hands on the tables surface either side of his torso, effectively preventing his escape. "I warned you not to-" Chris began furiously, his volume low and stubborn, but the blond cut him off.

"I'm not touching you." The tone was deliberate, Wesker's gaze daring him to deny it with a playful glint that Chris didn't want to see. Their faces were too close; Chris couldn't take a breath without breathing Wesker in and he could already feel his brain clouding over. Only an extremely thin strip of air separated them and even the slightest movement would have the brunette brushing against the older man. He stared up at Wesker defiantly, his pulse hammering in his neck.

"What do you want from me?" He bit out, concentrating hard to fight off the insistent urge to press forward. "I've had it up to here with your mind games! Why didn't you just leave me to die?"

"Why didn't you tell Rebecca the truth about me?" Wesker countered effortlessly, implication oozing from his voice. Chris' eyes flashed, teeth clenching as he resisted against leaning forward to get up in Wesker's face.

"I wasn't protecting you," he told the blond scathingly, trying to ignore the way the traitor took to watching his lips as he spoke. "I did that to avoid having yet another person I'd have to hold back from trying to kill your ass!"

"Well, regardless of your reasons for lying," Wesker returned without missing a beat, his voice more of a murmur and a sultry one at that. "I  _was_  protecting  _you_." Chris shut his mouth and swallowed thickly at the intensity flaring across the blond's features. He couldn't look away, involuntarily drinking in all the details of Wesker's face. Up this close, he could see the flecks of blue and grey blending together within the man's eyes, dilated pupils mirroring his image back to him. He wanted to know what that flawless, sun-kissed skin felt like, his fingers reflexively tightening on the edge of the table. His mouth already as parched as a desert, he couldn't help but lick his dry lips, the blond's gaze flickering down to catch the motion.

"Don't..." he whispered when Wesker inched closer, the latter's nose skimming the tip of his own, but it didn't matter how quiet he'd said it, they both heard the note of cracked conviction. He stood stock still as the blond closed his eyes, leaning forward so that their noses were fully nudging against each other. Chris' lips parted at the tension sizzling between their mouths, eyelids drifting shut of their own accord. He felt like a taut string being pulled and pulled and pulled at until he snapped and bridged the gap between their waiting mouths. His right hand shot up to fist in the sleeve of Wesker's navy shirt as the latter's body pushed flush against his, the edge of the table digging into the back of his thighs. He didn't care as he sucked air in and out through his nose, tongue battling Wesker's for dominance. Finally getting a taste of the blond made him heady with a need that he hadn't quite realised was in him, gasping at the sudden, possessive grab of his left hip. He pulled back, breathing heavily and trying to get a grip on himself but when Wesker's free hand came up to cup the back of his neck, thumb stroking methodically, he allowed himself to be coaxed back in. This kiss was less urgent, the blond's lips swiping at his in a lingering, almost tender fashion that had his left hand releasing the death grip on the table to clutch at the man's shoulder instead, trying to get him closer.

_'The triggering system has now been activated.'_

Chris jolted, the both of them breaking apart to glance up at the flashing red amongst dim, back-up generator lights.

_'All researchers stand by to take cover immediately. Unlocking all routes for extraction.'_

"It's time, Chris," he heard Wesker say and he looked back at him, heart skipping as his mind gradually caught up with his actions. He quickly let go as if he'd been stung and turned away from the blond's barely visible confusion.  _What was I thinking?!_  He covered his forehead with the palm of his hand and squeezed his eyes shut. "Chris, we need to go.  _Now_." He turned at the stern tone of his ex-captain's voice, only to see the green liquid draining from the giant tank capsule that housed the Tyrant.

"Come on!" He shouted, running for the entrance and out into the corridor. He skidded to a stop at the elevator and slammed his hand against the call button, swiftly equipping his magnum. They waited as the elevator casually descended to their floor, Chris interchanging between tapping his foot and pacing, adrenaline coursing through his veins like a drug. As it reached them, he pressed up against the doors, impatient for them to open. Stepping on, they both spun at the loud smashing of glass that sounded nearby and Chris met Wesker's eyes in alarm. Without a seconds delay, he pressed the button to take them up and anxiously watched the doors close on them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters song is: Lindsey Stirling "Crystallize" Cover & Remix by Danger Silent ft. Eddie Wellz

As soon as the elevator doors parted, Chris shot out of it, hurtling round the corners of the t-shaped hall and entering the facilities main area. Wesker was right beside him, eyes alert but otherwise expressionless and the automated, female voice of the self-destruct sequence was on a mind-numbingly endless loop. They'd barely got three feet before ear-splitting screeches had chorused and chimeras were attacking from every direction.

"Shit," he uttered, slowing down and reaching reluctantly for his magnum.

"We can't waste the ammo," Wesker told him, tone laced with urgency and Chris glanced behind them, jaw locked against the frantic beating of his heart. "Don't stop- keep moving and don't look back." The commanding lilt to the blond's voice was the least of his concerns as he swerved to the side, narrowly avoiding a claw to the gut. He didn't pause, simply took Wesker's advice and made a run for it, dodging and weaving between the numerous, sticky, insectile bodies that were coming at him. The flashing red lights weren't helping either, causing his already pounding headache to worsen. He thrust open the door on the left, holding it open from the inside while he waited for Wesker. Lithely slipping past him, the blond turned and stomped at the clicking head of the monster sandwiched between the closed door and the one Chris was pushing against. It screamed and scurried back just far enough for the brunette to slam the door shut. Not taking a moment to catch his breath, he dashed down the hall, only stopping at the sound of his name being called beneath the white noise ringing in his ears.

"Chris, you get Jill. I'll go on ahead." It didn't matter how reasonable and cooperative Wesker had sounded when he said it, Chris wasn't going to tolerate any more mind games, not with his stress levels steadily rising.

"Don't start with that shit, Wesker," he growled, turning halfway towards him. One kiss- and a mistake at that- didn't forge trust, nor did it repair it. "Do I need to pull my gun on you?" Wesker released a sigh of frustration, but he hastened towards Chris without further prompt. At least the traitor understood the severity of the situation they were in. If they didn't get out of here fast, they would be going up in flames along with everything else. Not to mention, they most likely had a Tyrant on their tail. Who knew how much time they had; regardless, what they definitely  _didn't_ have was time for any emotional predicaments. He wasn't in denial about what had happened, what he had given in to, that was nigh impossible. It was there every time he looked at Wesker, but right now he was in battle mode, STARS mode and if there was one thing the Air Force had commended him for, it was his adaptability. The drama would have to wait. Within seconds he was outside Jill's cell and he immediately got the door open.

"Chris!" The woman with the mousy hair and blue beret jumped to her feet and he opened his arms for her to run into. He hugged her to him protectively, taking a moment to close his eyes and breathe out in relief.

"Jill," he murmured, pulling away and rubbing her upper arms. "Sorry for making you wait."

"I knew you'd come," she smiled fiercely in return, giving his hand a squeeze. The tension in his body that had let up a fraction returned in full force.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered firmly, exchanging a determined nod with his partner. They headed out of the cell, and Chris didn't waste any time making his way back the way he and Wesker had come. However, he was forced to halt by the door at the sound of Jill's furious voice.

" _Wesker._ " So much for not letting drama take precedence. Jill and Wesker were facing off against each other, albeit the latter a lot more nonchalant than the former.

"Jill," the blond said faux pleasantly, lips quirking up in the beginnings of a smirk. "I trust you enjoyed your little time out?" Chris resisted the urge to face-palm, starting when Jill went to smack their ex-captain across the face.

"Jill-!"

Without flinching, Wesker caught her wrist before her palm could connect with his cheek. "Uh-uh-uh," he tutted, shaking his head slowly as his grey-blue eyes sparked with amusement. "You'll have to be quicker than that." Jill snatched her hand back, curling her lip in disgust.

"You should be grateful you're still breathing," she hissed out, stalking closer to the blond. "If it weren't for the fact that you need to pay for your crimes, you'd be dead already."

"Is that so?" Wesker said with a secretive smile that had Chris instantly on edge, stepping towards them.

"We don't have time for this-!"

"I wouldn't assume that that's the  _only_  reason I'm still alive," Wesker continued and Chris swallowed thickly at the way the blond's eyes deliberately strayed to him. Jill tracked the movement, looking over at the brunette with anxious uncertainty.

"Chris? What does he mean by that?" She demanded, voice a little weaker and yet with a reprimanding edge. A loaded silence filled the air, stifling.

"You know what?" He began, tone angry in an attempt to mask his defensiveness. "If you two wanna hang out here and get blown up, then fine. Be my guest." With that, he left them standing there, running into the next hallway. His stomach was in knots at leaving Jill behind, but if this was the only way to get them moving, then so be it. Since when had he become the adult of Alpha Team?  _Where the hell is Barry?!_  He relaxed ever so slightly at the sound of swift, booted feet and closing doors following in his wake as he climbed the stairs two at a time.

Once he reached the top, he took in the new zombies that had appeared- three to be precise- and he equipped the handgun as a precaution. The one nearest to him slowly tilted round, mouth gaping open to produce a long, guttural moan that seemed to reverberate beneath the obnoxiously loud siren. Pacing forward, he brought his foot down hard on the side of its leg before it had fully turned, causing it to buckle and groan, arms blindly flailing out towards him. He whipped the thing in the face with Jill's gun, before shoving it backwards and onto the floor.

Briefly worrying about whether Jill had anything to protect herself with, he moved on to the fast approaching zombies down the way, wrapping his free hand around his combat knife and poising it beside his gun arm. He shot the first in the head, its cloudy eyes half-rolling back as it crumpled to its knees and then flat to the floor. The second grimy creatures feet stumbled slightly against the body now blocking its way, lolling backwards, disorientated, with its arms outstretched. Chris drove forwards, slashing out with his knife against the things face, the decaying flesh of its cheek tearing free and hanging by a strip of discoloured skin. Sweat clinging to the back of his neck, he stifled his nausea and swiped at it until it staggered backwards. He stepped over the limp corpse before him to bodily throw the zombie to the dank ground.

A shot rang out sharply behind him, signalling Wesker and Jill's presence and he bent down to embed his blade into the zombies skull before taking off at a run again. He called out behind him as he went, thrusting the door open. He crossed the box room and leapt onto the ladder, ascending as quickly as he could. Finding himself at the heavy-set emergency doors that lead to the heliport, he pressed apprehensively against them, flooding with relief when they stiffly gave way. He entered a dimly lit corridor, pushing his legs mercilessly and not allowing himself to stop even for a moment.

As he swung round a corner, static sounded from the radio attached to his war-torn, green vest. He'd thought he'd imagined it at first but as he reluctantly grounded to a stop, he picked up on words crackling through.

_'This is Brad-'_

The signal was horribly distorted and Chris had to strain his ears as he turned halfway towards the footsteps hurrying towards him.

_'This is my last try- if somebody's alive, please, send a sign-'_

He glanced up at Wesker as the signal petered out, the latter's focused gaze flitting up from the radio to meet his. The blond's breathing was lightly laboured but unsurprisingly, not nearly as bad as his own.

"Alright, come on," he nodded once, placing his hand against Wesker's shoulder-blade and pushing insistently, but not ungently. "I'll bring up the rear." Wesker took a couple steps forwards under the pressure of his hand, but seemed to hesitate. He watched impatiently as the blond inclined his face towards him without actually looking at him.

"As you wish," Wesker uttered after a few seconds longer, giving the brunette's shoulder a firm pat before disappearing along the corridor and round another corner. Chris shook off the familiarity of the action and glanced back, searching for Jill. His frown morphed into a distracted yet reassuring smile as she walked up to him, fingers white-knuckled around a handgun.  _Good, she has a weapon at least_. She was eyeing him so intently that he felt himself shift in discomfort; the suspicion and disappointment in her crystal-clear gaze was only made worse by the sheer concern dwelling at the core of it. He looked away, unable to bear the scrutiny, frown securely back in place upon his pale features. Jill moved past him, looking back as her hand straightened her beret.

"Will you really be okay?" His head jerked up at the unexpected question, releasing a sigh and rubbing his forehead in an attempt to soothe the ache, the gauze itchy against his sweaty skin. He knew she was talking about Wesker, about what was to be done with the traitor once they returned to Racoon, but he couldn't help but wonder about the teams mental well-being.

"Will any of us?" He questioned rhetorically, voice and posture the epitome of fatigue. He walked to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. He noticed the way she was desperately trying to swallow down her emotions, her grief, eyes shining faintly with unshed tears. "Let's worry about that once we're out of here. We'll figure it all out, okay? All of us together." She sucked in a deep breath and nodded at him before continuing on, saying no more.

They moved at a brisk jog, rounding corner after corner until they came upon Wesker, standing in front of another elevator. The blond stood with a hand laying casually on his hip, expression faintly mocking and downcast eyes glimmering.

"Well, what do you know?" Jill said sarcastically as they reached him, Chris' deep blue eyes dropping to the bulky man collapsed on the floor, using the wall to hold himself upright.

"Barry?!" The brunette blurted, almost in shock at seeing the man again; he was at Barry's side in an instant, crouching down and leaning his fist on the floor between them. "You're alive!" His old partner and long time friend gradually lifted his head towards him, sleep-deprived eyes struggling to focus on his face. One hand lay forgotten on the floor at his side, loosely grasping his Colt Python, while the other clutched uselessly at his wounded torso.

"Chris...?" The burly man rasped out at last and the brunette released a tense breath, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

"Hang in there, we'll get you out in no time," Chris murmured as his eyes dropped to the man's chest to assess the damage. Jill made a somewhat disgruntled noise somewhere behind him, shifting about on her spot and Barry dizzily glanced up towards her.

"Jill...? It's you...forgive me-" the middle aged man broke off into a phlegmy coughing fit that had Chris worried. At Jill's lack of response, Barry wiped his bloody mouth on the back of his hand and fitfully attempted to speak again. "I'm so...ashamed...Just leave me..."

"Barry, what are you saying?!" Chris started incredulously, giving the man's shoulder another squeeze in support. "We ain't going anywhere without you." When the man with the thinning auburn hair continued to stare almost guiltily up at Jill, Chris followed his gaze in confusion.  _What am I missing?_  Jill was levelly holding Barry's stare with a mixture of hurt, anger and begrudging understanding. Still she said nothing and it was Wesker who finally broke the silence.

"Don't blame Barry for everything." His tone had been blasé at best but there was a hint of irritation adorning his features, earlier amusement having worn off. Instead of defusing the situation, however, all it served to do was reignite Jill's ire.

"That's right," she snapped, fully turning her attention to the blond and practically vibrating with hatred. Chris glanced anxiously between them, his hackles rising along with his own annoyance.  _What the hell is going on here?!_  Before he could voice the question, Jill continued. " _You and Umbrella_  took his family." Chris' mind reeled, eyes going wide in disbelief.

"What-?!"

"I assure you, they are perfectly safe," Wesker batted back effortlessly, unperturbed. "No harm will come to them unless on my say so."

"You bastard!" Jill made to attack the blond but she came up short, standing before the barrel of his STARS issue handgun. Chris hastily jumped to his feet, the room spinning momentarily, in tandem with his headache. His chest felt constricted as he glared at Wesker for what seemed the umpteenth time, not knowing what feelings to hone in on. Let himself boil over and confront him about this new revelation, or allow his fear for Jill's safety to take control of the situation. It was harder than he would have imagined to loosen up his locked muscles and take a steady,  _calm_  step forwards, hands raising slowly.

"Alright, that's enough," he uttered, voice stronger than he'd expected, wary eyes flitting between the two of them. Wesker had his eyes narrowed menacingly and Chris could tell by the set of his jaw that he was at the end of his tether. His mousy haired partner didn't look much different as she quietly seethed, but her eyes were like glowering orbs of justice and retribution.

"Can't you put your bitch on a leash, Chris?" Wesker said forcefully casual and without taking his eyes off Jill's. She pulled her lip back, baring her teeth but she didn't rise to the bait, thankfully. Chris, on the other hand, had difficulty holding himself back from punching Wesker in the face, his annoyance rising to the surface once more. Barry attempted to intervene from his crumpled position but his words were garbled and incoherent and no one was paying him any mind anyhow.

"Goddamnit, can't you kick each other's ass  _after_  we escape?!" Chris urged, deliberating over which of the two he should address directly- it would look like taking sides and he would much rather not get caught in their crossfire. Although in that vein of thought, Jill was his partner and Wesker, the traitor, was the one aiming the gun. Why should he care if the older man resented him for backing Jill? "Wesker. Put the gun  _down_ ," he intoned, voice low and careful as he inched forward another step. The blond's shrewd eyes flitted sideways to glare at him, nose flared.

After a short eternity of heated staring, Chris released a frustrated breath, glancing once at Jill before stepping up to the blond and gripping his upper arm like a vice. He felt Wesker's biceps bunch under his hand but he ignored it, softening his features so they were closer to neutral. "Look, I get it, you don't have to do anything I say. You could ditch us at any given moment, but...what about your promise...?" He had been speaking quietly, but he dropped his voice further so that only Wesker's ears caught the last part. Wesker looked about as pleased as he felt at having to pull that particular card on the man; fair eyebrows were drawn together in a look of complete and utter vehemence. They both knew the blond didn't appreciate having his own words thrown back in his face, but Chris refused to feel any regret over it, despite loosening his grip slightly and allowing a morsel of his unhappiness to show through on his face. He watched as Wesker schooled away all trace of emotion in response, grey-blue eyes heavily guarded and the corner of his mouth twitching downwards inconspicuously.

Finally, the blond's arm lowered, re-holstering his weapon and Chris sighed, forgetting to take his hand back until it was roughly dislodged. His ex-captain moved to distance himself from them, leaning faux-nonchalantly against the wall with his arms crossed. Chris for once could see right through the outward attitude, the muscles in the man's jaw visibly working overtime. His hand was burning from the brush off, but he knew it was all in his head, along with the spiky obstacle blocking his airways. He turned back to Jill. She in turn, was now facing away, one hand clutching her beret while the other combed through her shoulder-length hair in aggravation. He paused from opening his mouth at the sound of light footsteps echoing down the winding hallway they had come from. Rebecca came round the corner, breaking into breathless, relieved laughter at recognising her teammates.

"I made it!" She said through broken panting, rubbing absently at a smear of black, sludgy blood across her cheek. "I set off the triggering system to the bomb," she informed them, her eyes finding Chris before lingering briefly on Wesker's shadowed form and widening at the sight of Jill.

"Good work," Chris praised easily, smiling as the petite rookie padded forward to squeeze Jill's hand in greeting, eyes alight with tired delight. "Rebecca, Brad's up in the helicopter." He moved to stand by the two women, the medic's gaze coming up to meet his once more.

"Alright, let's go," she nodded eagerly, before looking past them to land on Barry's sorry state on the floor. "Is someone injured back there?" She was already rushing to Barry's side, reaching around her torso for her medical bag.

"He's Barry Burton, our team's weapons specialist," Jill murmured, tentatively following Rebecca and hovering over the injured man with obvious worry now. "We don't know what happened to him but he looks in a bad way." Chris watched silently from the sidelines as Rebecca went to work on tending the family man's wound, glad that his partner seemed to have calmed down a bit.

"Please...just leave me here..." Barry repeated feebly, sounding defeated as he began to cough again, gripping his gun more firmly and raising it off the ground. Rebecca started to say something along the lines of 'stop squirming' but she was cut off, everyone's gaze darting upwards.

_'There are ten minutes until explosion.'_

"Shit," Chris cursed in alarm. "It's time to go." He made to help get Barry on his feet, but froze at the faraway medley of growls, roars, hissing and moaning.

"Those things are coming!" Rebecca exclaimed fearfully even as she turned her attention quickly back to her patient, nimble hands fluttering over the herbs she was busy mixing.

"I can take care of them," Jill said, voice simultaneously soft and final as she equipped her handgun and moved into a defensive stance, her back to the others.

"And I'll take care of Mr. Burton," the medic said in an equally unyielding tone, looking up at Chris. He was already shaking his head briskly, not willing to leave anybody behind.

"No way. Jill-" he argued, but Jill smoothly interrupted him, glancing over her shoulder with a fearless expression.

"Chris, get in contact with Brad right away," she ordered strictly but with a hint of desperation in her tone that wordlessly pushed at him to stop debating and act before it was too late. "We'll rendezvous at the heliport."

"Jill, take the shotgun!" Rebecca pressed, offering up the gun. Jill put her handgun away in favour of it and some shells as Chris stood numbly watching. "Chris! Get going!" The brunette looked down at Rebecca's impatient yet concerned pout, feeling torn. In the midst of it all, Wesker had retrieved the battery on the floor beside Barry and connected it up to the elevator, bringing it to life. At the blond's hand latching onto his arm, he turned in protest but he was yanked unceremoniously into the elevator. By the time he'd regained his balance and spun around, the doors had sealed shut. He couldn't help it; his arm swung through the air and his fist cracked across Wesker's face, surprising him.

"Why?!"

Wesker cupped his jaw for a second before his eyes flashed up to Chris', looking almost black with indignant anger. Before Chris could react, he was being thrown against the rusted, metal wall. The back of his head smacked against it hard, right over the spot where the blond had pistol-whipped him earlier and he couldn't stifle the pained grunt that escaped his lips, nor mask the grimace. He lifted a hand to gingerly touch the sore spot, despite the fact that he was being held up by the collar of his green vest. He could have sworn the bandage was damp beneath his fingers.

"Christ sakes, Wesker, if I didn't already have a concussion I do now!" He fumed, eyes squeezing shut and teeth clenched. The blond relented, backing up slightly so that Chris was once again supporting his own weight but he didn't let go. The brunette glanced up at the older man to see that the latter was very clearly biting back words. He scoffed mildly, still gently probing his head. "I started it, right?" Wesker released a sigh through his nose, confirming his assumption and he scoffed again, pushing at the blond to let him go. As if the traitor would ever apologise. Wesker resisted his pressure, gaze momentarily growing in intensity but when the elevator shuddered to a stop and the doors whined open, he exited without a word.

Chris walked out onto the heliport, eyes squinting at the brightness of the early morning sun beaming down on them. He welcomed the breezy warmth that came with it, feeling as though years had passed since the last time he'd felt the sun on his skin. Casting a frantic gaze about, he spotted a lone crate in a corner by the elevator and double-backed to haul a heavy-duty flare out of it. Jogging to the centre of the landing ring, he set the flare down and without further ado set it off. He stepped back, staring upwards as it launched up into the clear sky with a resounding boom. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes as he waited on tenterhooks for any sign of Brad. Just when his heart began to pound in resignation and horror at the possibility of imminent death, the faint sound of rotating propellers reached his ears, bringing a stuttering smile to his wan features.

He took in lungfuls of the clean mountain air to steady himself, eventually turning to regard Wesker in a much more subdued manner. Wesker was already looking at him, arms folded loosely over his chest and an unreadable expression on his tanned face. He looked more golden now that they were out in natural light. This was the striking visage Chris had grown accustomed to over the years, not the dark, shadowy figure he had had to look upon these recent hours, who had been outed as a liar and a murderer. It made his heart stop for a millisecond just looking at him like that and finally without those damned shades too. He wanted to wish that he had never seen those eyes, the beautiful subtly of their colour; but he couldn't. Closing the distance between them, he repelled the impulse to reach out and instead crossed his arms, mirroring the blond.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" He broke the silence with nothing but strain and tiredness in his voice. He could tell that Wesker knew he was talking about Barry by the way the older man temporarily pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It wasn't relevant at the time," the blond answered, sounding sincere enough, but Chris half-turned away and scrubbed a hand through his unkempt, grease-laced hair. "Does it really change anything? Be honest with yourself, Chris."

"You're right," he muttered after a drawn-out pause in which he'd debated whether to reply at all. He met Wesker's strangely curious gaze with cold steel in his own. "It doesn't change anything. You betrayed us. That's never gonna change." Wesker looked far from disgruntled by his words, responding without hesitation.

"Then it doesn't change your feelings for me either. Does it?" Chris' hands fisted bitingly tight at that, uncurling his arms so that they hung loose at his sides in an attempt to look unfazed. Wesker's eyes missed nothing, however and his knowing gaze only sunk further beneath his skin.

"Right now, I  _hate_  you," the brunette ground out, stepping into the blond's personal space as he tried to shirk the agitation rolling over him in waves. "But not nearly as much as I hate myself. What does that tell you?" A leather hand came up to cup his chin ever so lightly and he stiffened, bristling at the unexpected touch and the feelings it evoked.

"Everything I need to know." There was a smile dancing about Wesker's lips as he said it, with a tenderness that muddled Chris' brain and sent turmoil through his chest. He belatedly shoved away and when Jill came running out of the elevator not a moment later, he was extremely glad he had.

"There he is!" Jill exclaimed, waving up to the approaching helicopter and he turned around to do the same.

"Brad!"

"We're saved!" Jill's happiness was contagious and Chris found himself grinning wider than he had all night, if considerably more wearily. The shadow of the copter spread to the centre where the large 'H' was painted and he and Wesker automatically stepped further back. Jill joined them and he looked down at her with a ghost of his old boyish smile gracing his face. She returned his gaze with something akin to remorse glinting in her eyes.

"Chris, listen, I'm sorry I-" She broke off at the sudden sound of smashing concrete. They all whirled to see a hole in the ground near the elevator, the surrounding stone and concrete broken up and crumbling down through the gap. As they stared, a large, familiar mass lurched up and out of the hole, slamming down and sending vibrations across the surface of the heliport. Chris reached for his magnum and took aim just as the giant abomination straightened to its full height.

"What  _is_  that?" Jill said under her breath to nobody in particular. She sounded shocked to the core and Chris couldn't blame her.

"What the crap is that thing?! Get rid of it!" Brad in the helicopter pulled away abruptly, hovering and circling uncertainly above them.

"The Tyrant," Wesker supplied before Chris got a chance to, his tone wary as the monster started a slow, sinister lope towards them. "Aim for the head and don't stop shooting until it stops moving." The three of them immediately started pumping it full of bullets; its legs sped up gradually, staggering back after a couple of seconds and giving a raucous, back-arching roar. Without warning it sprinted at them, large limbs thundering against the floor. They dove out of the way moments before its claw-hand could tear their flesh asunder. Chris rolled and bounced back to his feet, jogging backwards as he shot it repeatedly in the back until hitting empty. He kept one eye on its movements as he fished spare rounds out of his pocket to reload. Jill was the closest to it, her shotgun powerful enough to slow it down a bit as it stalked towards her.

She stood her ground and panic shot through Chris when she ran out of shells, his fingers fumbling at the speed in which he was sliding his bullets home. He saw her duck under a wide, full-bodied sweep of its arm but before she could get any space between them, it back-handed her upper back, sending her body skidding, face-down across the ground.

"Jill!" Chris shouted anxiously, the Tyrant turning with its bulging eyes at the sound of his voice. "Come on, you test-tube freak!" He started firing again, every other bullet causing it to stagger and he spotted Wesker stealthily get behind it so that they were hitting it from both sides. The elevator doors clanged open and the stunned faces of a visibly still weakened Barry and their petite rookie came into view, temporarily distracting Chris.

"What is this thing?!" Barry exclaimed gruffly, coughing a tad even as he brought up his Colt Python in both hands. When Chris looked back at the creature, it was nearly upon him and preparing another running attack. However, at the combination of three weapons now blowing holes into its back, it collapsed forward onto one knee with an earth-shattering roar of pure ire. Chris resisted the urge to cover his ears and instead shot it straight in its grotesque, exposed heart. Another roar tore from its throat, head thrown back and its hand and claw flexing violently. This time, Chris couldn't hold back a wince, feeling as though someone was drilling into his skull. Black spots dotted his vision, causing disorientation and he grabbed at his head as he screwed his eyes shut tight.

"Chris, watch out!"

"Chris!"

Barry and Rebecca's cries registered faintly and he glanced back up, absently noticing that Jill was on her feet once more and splitting a worried gaze between him and the monster, trying to stall it with the shotgun. He refocused his gaze on the Tyrant bounding towards him, its huge claw looking vastly bigger in scale than before and shining with what looked like fresh, vivid blood. Without time to dodge, he raised his arms in front of him to brace against the attack.

Something firm slammed into him and then he was flying backwards through the air, crashing to the ground in a heap. For a distorted second, he just lay there, catching his breath and vaguely wondering at the weight pinning his body down. A cough racked his frame and he half tried to sit up, sucking oxygen in sporadically. Everything sounded muffled as if he were under water. He glanced down to see a head of blond, dishevelled hair, raising to display features contorted in an effort to suppress pain at the same time as conceal it. Wesker was struggling to push himself up from his sprawled position half atop of Chris' lower half.

"Captain!" Chris blurted out as one of the blond's arms buckled, reaching out to grasp the older man's shoulders in an attempt to help support his weight. He realised his slip of the tongue too late as Wesker's eyes darted up to lock with his. Wesker's face was flushed redder than he was used to seeing it and he had a look of intense concentration in trying to keep the agony he was experiencing out of his expression. Nevertheless, the brunette couldn't help but read the evident astonishment gleaming in his eyes. The others were calling out to them, he registered, their voices sharpening in clarity. He jolted jarringly out of his reverie and glanced up to see that Barry, Jill and Rebecca had formed a triangle around the Tyrant to trap it in the middle of their hail of bullets.

"Damnit, I'm out!" Barry shouted to the others, but Chris' attention was snagged by the looming shadow of the copter overhead. Something big and metallic was hurled down onto the heliport and his eyes flew back up at the sound of Brad's amplified voice.

"Chris! Use it to destroy the monster!"

"Got it," he breathed fiercely, pulling himself out from under Wesker's body quickly but gently enough not to exacerbate the man's wound. He made a partly-limping, mad dash for the 'H' at the centre where what he soon recognised as a rocket launcher had landed. Hefting it up onto his shoulder, he took aim at the Tyrant that had set its sights on him again, readying its claw-arm.

"Eat this," Chris hollered with the relish of anticipation and then he fired. It got a mere two lunges before colliding with the rocket and exploding into a mass of coagulated blood, singed skin and burning limbs flying off in every direction. An eerie quiet descended upon the heliport like an ominous blanket cloaking them and making it difficult to breathe easy. The Tyrant's head rolled awkwardly to a stop in front of Chris' boots, grinning face and sightless, dead eyes staring up towards him. Panting faintly, Chris kicked the head aside in disgust and limped over to his comrades, hoping that he'd never have to see the likes of that hellish creature ever again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters songs are: Ghost of Utopia by IAMX and Into The Hollow by Queens of the Stone Age

Chris felt filthy standing in the side room of Raccoon City's general hospital. Everything was bright and sterile, the faint chemical smell wafting through the air making his nose itch. Grime and gore still tainted his gear and skin, from his boots to his dark hair and his leg hurt like a bitch. Rebecca had eventually patched it up for him with a makeshift splint on the journey back and as far as he was concerned, that was good enough for now. With a muted sigh, he leant his head back on the wall he was standing against. The second his eyelids drooped closed, he could feel sleep sucking him in, his body becoming sluggish and heavy on his feet. He opened them again, giving his face a brisk scrub before turning his eyes towards the window. Wesker stood there, silent in the tense atmosphere with his thumb and finger squeezing two beige slats of the blinds apart to peek through.

Chris hadn't let the man out of his sight since Brad dropped them off, unwilling to risk Wesker slipping away unseen. He was wounded himself but nothing so critical that he would leave the blond unguarded. Wesker's face tilted sideways as though sensing his gaze but he didn't look at him, something the brunette was immensely glad for. The ride back to civilisation had been a solitary one. He and Wesker had shared some words that left him feeling closer to the blond than he ever would have imagined; but it wasn't something he was comfortable with. Not when Wesker had done nothing but lie to him from day one. After so many years of unconsciously yearning to get to know his captain better, and on a more personal level, it was laughable that now that he did, he almost wished he didn't.

Unbidden, the subdued hours it had taken to return to the city played over in his mind, simultaneously vivid and hazy as he tried to process it all.

_Alpha Team's tired marksmen sat on the edge of his seat in the back of the helicopter, staring expectantly out of the window. It was as though if he didn't witness it himself then he couldn't believe it had actually happened. One moment, the Spencer mansion was peering hauntingly up through the tall, forest trees, the next it was erupting into the blue sky, a mass of fire, charcoal smoke, chunks of brick and splintered wood. A dull boom had sounded, sending shock waves against the retreating copter. Brad hastily righted them and Chris finally sat back in his seat, releasing a long, pent-up breath of relief._

_Wiping sweat and dirt off his face, he cast a weary glance over his remaining teammates, all in various states of exhaustion. Opposite him, Barry looked truly beaten and yet relaxed as he toyed with his magnum, flicking the cylinder shut and sighting along the barrel. Jill, beside him, was fighting weakly to keep her eyes open. While Chris watched, she gradually succumbed to it, her head falling slowly to the side to rest on Barry's shoulder. The burly family man started at the light thud. He gazed fondly down at the young woman, faint traces of guilt lingering in the wrinkle lines of his face. Chris smiled softly at the father-daughter picture they made, shifting his eyes to the other end of the leather bench he was resting on. Rebecca's petite frame was curled up almost in foetal position and very clearly asleep if the steady, little breaths she was emitting were any indication. His smile tugged up on one side in the beginnings of his classic, boyish grin for a minute, before he leant back again, attention reluctantly turning to the last of their band of survivors._

_Wesker was sitting next to him with a reserved expression across his features, grey-blue eyes staring past Chris and out of the window. The brunette didn't have long to openly study the blond before the latter's veiled eyes met his. He ignored the spark that shot through him at the connection, attempting to keep any reaction out of his face._

" _How's your back?" He asked quietly, more tentatively than he had intended. He couldn't help but glance across to Barry and Jill in the hopes that they hadn't overheard. His mousy haired partner was still napping while their Weapons Specialist was nodding off himself._

" _Sore," came Wesker's unusually honest response, regaining his attention. "But I'll live." Chris nodded slightly, avoiding eye contact as his chest tightened in unwanted responsibility. He knew he hadn't had any control over the sequence of events but the fact that Wesker had got injured in his stead left him feeling irrationally at fault. He mentally shook off as much of it as he could, looking up again to find Wesker still watching him._

" _I'm not gonna thank you," he uttered without any heat behind it, giving a short sigh as Wesker waited wordlessly for him to continue. "Just this once, Wesker, explain to me how after all we've been through, you could betray us like that." His voice was calm when he spoke, tone as neutral as he could get it. Wesker minutely scanned his features, his own giving away nothing._

" _I'm not like you, Chris," the blond replied lowly, making a point of fully capturing his gaze. "My youth consisted of three basic principles: discipline, obedience and unity. I was taught loyalty, yes, but only in as much as it pertained to Umbrella. That meant keeping their secret and following orders- it was that or be done away with. Or used as a test subject as I'm sure you can imagine. The notion of loyalty you grew up with, Chris, is not the kind that I did. It really is as simple as that." The brunette's eyebrows were furrowed by the time Wesker had finished, his throat bone dry and his headache throbbing again. He swallowed down the induced nausea with difficulty, valiantly holding the older man's gaze._

" _But you betrayed Umbrella too..." He pointed out in bafflement, trying to find the logic in Wesker's inner workings._

" _Precisely," the blond stated easily, subtly turning in his seat to better face him. "As I came to realise fairly early on, it isn't in my nature to be kept under somebody else's thumb. So I bided my time; I furthered my research and when this opportunity arose, I took it. In the end, all Umbrella succeeded in teaching me was the importance of looking out for number one." Wesker had remained matter of fact and cold-eyed throughout and Chris' heart was beating uneasily fast as a result. It was true that he wanted to understand the traitor's reasoning but under no circumstances did he want to feel sympathy for him. The idea that Umbrella had been indoctrinating Wesker- probably along with countless others, children even- made him feel physically sick._

" _Umbrella..._ raised _you?" He found himself voicing the question, while at the same time dreading the confirmation. The revulsion and fear must have been evident in his deep blue eyes because Wesker's expression took on a thoughtful slant, a vaguely disparaging smile twisting his lips._

" _You seem surprised, Chris. I wonder, do you find me more repellent now than you have already so adamantly stated?" The tasteless mixture of amusement and provocation dancing within the blond's striking eyes couldn't have rubbed Chris the wrong way any more than it had._

" _Don't," he intoned under his breath so as not to wake the others, his eyes flashing in righteous fury at the blond. There was a pause."How can you even joke about something like this?" He added in emphasis, but his tone was significantly more gentle. He knew Wesker didn't deserve to be treated with gentleness and kindness but he didn't have the energy for true anger right now. The miniscule smile had slipped from the blond's face and he merely regarded Chris as though trying to read his thoughts. The brunette remained quiet, jumping at the feeling of Wesker's hand clasping the back of his, where it lay on the bench between them. His eyes flew back up to Wesker's, a sharp lump in his throat._

" _Regardless," the blond breathed out warily and yet tranquilly. "The reason it was so easy for me to betray STARS, to betray you, was because it needed to be done; it was a means to an end. It didn't occur to me whatsoever how any of you would react to the truth- that was irrelevant. I don't consider you a threat, even now. Nor did I feel any sense of loyalty to STARS, knowing that Umbrella would not have me stationed at the RPD indefinitely." He stopped momentarily at the indignation Chris was practically vibrating with, a light smirk creeping upon his face at the brunette's disgruntled glare. "However, having seen just how violently you reacted, Chris...I don't suppose I would go about everything the same way if I was to do it all again. I might enjoy riling you up, but I'm not a sadist." Chris didn't say anything, only pondered Wesker's words in the privacy of his thoughts. He turned away to spend the remainder of the flight staring listlessly out of the window._

_After a couple beats of silence, filled only by the sound of the rotating propellers, Chris slowly flipped his left hand over to accept the clasp of the older man's fingers, shielding them from view with his muscular thigh. He knew it wouldn't last, knew that sooner than later he'd have to let go; but for now, after the hell he'd just been through, he would allow himself this one moment with the unknowingly ruined man. As temporary as it may be._

Chris was jolted out of his reverie by the abrupt opening of the door to his right. A woman entered, smartly dressed in black slacks and a coral blouse beneath her white doctors coat. Her jet black hair was tied up in a chignon and she wore a stethoscope around her neck.

"Mr Wesker?" She inquired, turning to him and analysing his dishevelled condition with intelligent brown eyes.

"Uh, no," he shook his head awkwardly, glancing at Wesker who promptly tore himself away from the window to stride over to them.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Clark." The woman smiled briefly at the standoffish blond, reaching to retrieve a folder from the slot at the end of the bed. "It says here you're suffering from fatigue and a severe back injury...along with a couple other minor scrapes and bruises," she went on without further ado, glancing over at Chris again. "You don't look too hot yourself." A trace of concern darkened her features ever so slightly but Chris brushed it off.

"I'll get myself checked out later. He's worse off than me," he replied with a nod in Wesker's direction. Wesker sent him a faintly cursory look before proceeding to pull off his black tactical vest and unbutton his shirt. Even though the blond was working to hide his discomfiture, the brunette couldn't help but notice how gingerly he discarded his gear. Doctor Clark split a sceptical glance between the two before setting aside the folder.

"Alright, Mr Wesker, let's take a look, shall we?"

"Let's get this over with," Wesker agreed, perching on the edge of the bed, back facing away from Chris. However, the subtle gesture wasn't necessary as he had already glimpsed the damage that had been meant for him. An angry gash ran the length of Wesker's spine, dried blood and purple splotches colouring the surrounding skin and turning Chris' stomach. He couldn't unsee it, the image seeming magnified in his mind's eye. Doctor Clark produced a short whistle at the sight before she carefully got a feel for the ribs and organs within. Wesker hissed once or twice at her probing, gritting his teeth and looking distantly up towards Chris. For the first time the brunette truly felt at risk of throwing up and pressed a fisted hand to his mouth in response. None of the herbs or first aid sprays had done anything for the migraine he was sporting and he deliriously considered asking Jill to pick lock the hospitals supply room for pain medication. He was sweating again, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"Miraculously, there doesn't seem to be any broken bones or internal bleeding, but I'd like to do some blood tests to be on the safe side. I'll order a CT scan for you as well," he heard Doctor Clark say as if from afar. "Okay, let's get this cleaned and bandaged for now. How's the pain?" There was no response for some time, which Chris vaguely wondered at.

"Chris." The blond's cultured voice reached his ears, volume distorting. "Are you going to be sick?" He opened his eyes, squinting at Wesker's frowning face through the overwhelming dizziness. He held his fist away from his face to speak haltingly.

"I...I need some air..." With that, he edged out of the door, eyes searching for a bathroom. He staggered along the ward before giving up and hunching over a nearby bin. He retched up the little remains from the last time he'd eaten, head blazing behind his water eyes. He coughed and spluttered, staying in the same position for many moments as he tried to breathe. His headache began to interchange between pulsing and dulling down, but the nausea was gradually receding. Weakly, he spat and straightened up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Are you okay, Sir?" He glanced down at the gentle hand on his arm. A passing nurse was looking him up and down in obvious worry and he attempted to smile.

"Could you...show me where the bathroom is...?" He managed to ask, voice coarse and thin.

"Sure thing." The nurse immediately nodded, hand helpfully guiding him along.

"Thanks."

* * *

Chris had his head bent over a sink, repeatedly pressing cold water into his flushed face. He felt a little better but he seriously needed sleep or meds to tide him over until he could get himself checked out. He washed his mouth out thoroughly before reaching for some paper towels to dry his hands and face. He caught his reflection in the mirror, stopping in his actions. Although his features were no longer tainted with dead blood and dirt, he was as pale as a ghost, thick blue bags under his eyes making him look ill, hollow. He had fine cuts scattered about his face from the initial chimera attack, but fortunately they didn't look like they would scar. Generally, looking this haggard from sleep-deprivation tended to make people look ten years older, but somehow to Chris' wide gaze, he looked like a lost little boy.

He ripped his eyes away, forcefully throwing the paper towels into a bin on the way out. He slowly made his way back towards Wesker's room, glancing absently about him and pausing when he saw Jill across the ward. He made a beeline for her, taking in a few deep breaths as he went.

"Jill."

"Hey, Chris," she said softly, turning towards him. There was a square of gauze taped to her chin from the nasty graze she'd received from the ground of the heliport. "Barry's just sleeping." He glanced through the window she had been watching the man in question through. Barry was resting safely in bed, a heart monitor beside him no doubt beeping rhythmically in the quiet.

"Have you been seen to yet?" He double-checked, looking back down at his partner. The knock she'd taken from the Tyrant certainly did more damage than a simple graze to her chin and he knew she could be as stubborn as him when it came to dismissing wounds as 'nothing she couldn't handle'. Now that he thought about it, most of the STARS members were like that, always having to prove their strength, their worth. Perhaps it was something they picked up from working under their 'captain'. Or maybe those were qualities Wesker had hired them for.

"Yeah," she answered with a firm nod, giving him a once over and knitting her eyebrows together at what she saw. "What about you?" He cast his eyes to the side, sighing in resignation for the oncoming reprimand. " _Chris?_  You look ready to collapse! At least let Rebecca take a proper look at you." He knew she was right; not only did he need sleep, his leg was in pretty bad shape too. Still, he needed to keep an eye on Wesker. Thinking that, his limbs started to buzz with adrenaline, feeling like he'd left the man alone for too long. He placed a hand lightly on Jill's shoulder.

"Where is Rebecca anyway?" He asked, filling with an anxiety he didn't think he'd be feeling again so soon after their escape from the Spencer mansion. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Relax, Chris. She's okay," Jill told him soothingly, putting a hand on top of his. "She went to get coffee, said something about checking on you." He physically loosened up, smiling fleetingly down at her.

"Sorry, I just..." He shook his head, turning back to gaze in at Barry's sleeping form. "I better head back to Wesker- for all we know he's scheming up a plan as we speak."

"I'll watch over Barry for now but let me know when you're gonna get checked out so I can keep that bastard guard." Chris didn't acknowledge the bitter edge to her tone, simply squeezed her shoulder.

"Don't worry, I will," he promised before heading back.

As soon as he stepped through the door into the side room, his stomach plunged. It was empty; there was no sign that anybody had ever been there.

"Shit!" He spun back around, dashing out and frantically looking around the busy ward. Nothing. "Shit!"

"Chris?" Rebecca walked up to him with a cup of steaming, black coffee in each hand, a question in her round eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Did you see him?" He questioned urgently, taking another look around in the hope that he would see Doctor Clark.

"See who? Wesker? I thought he was with you..." Chris was already shaking his head, hurrying past her towards the exit.

"I've gotta find him!" He called over his shoulder distractedly.

"Wait, Chris...! Jill! Hold these for me..."

Chris ran through the hospital, doing his best to avoid staff and patients alike, his wounded leg burning with the effort. He couldn't believe it; but at the same time, he couldn't believe that he couldn't believe it. Of course Wesker would take the first chance he got to disappear. Chris cursed himself, wishing he'd asked Jill to keep an eye out before he went to sort himself out in the bathroom. At the renewed stress and panic, his head began to throb again, but he pushed through it. Reaching the hospitals glass, sliding doors, he ran out into the midday sun, the light drizzle of rain quickly dampening his hair and skin.

"Wesker!" He shouted out into the bustling street, hating the raspy, hysteric quality to his voice. A couple passers-by sent him curious or shocked glances but they didn't register with him, eyes only scouring for blond, slicked back hair and considerable height. He half-jogged, half-limped along the pavement to the left a bit, cupping his hands around his mouth. " _Wesker_!"

The man was long gone. Chris stopped, bringing his hands up to scrunch tightly in his hair. He attempted to stifle the rage and trepidation fighting to smother him but he couldn't keep it in. "Goddamnit!" Turning, he kicked a trash can with such ferocity that he sent it rolling on the sidewalk, rubbish tumbling out in its wake. He instantly cried out at the agony that shot through his bad leg, bending over to clutch it.

"Chris!" He felt a hand on his back and glanced up to see Rebecca panting from exertion but looking beside herself with worry.

"He's gone," was all Chris grounded out, standing up and covering his eyes with a palm of his hand. "I shouldn't've left him alone."

"It's not your fault, Chris," Rebecca said quietly and he finally glanced down to see that she was looking somewhat troubled herself. "None of us were in any condition to deal with him." She gave a barely there smile, one that he saw right through.

"Rebecca, listen," he began hesitantly, thinking that there would never be a good time to break the news. "About Wesker...he killed-"

"I know, Chris," she murmured, cutting him off as though she couldn't bear to hear it aloud. "Jill told me." He breathed out jadedly, putting an arm around her shoulders at the tell-tale shining in her eyes. "He betrayed us. That's why you were acting weird in the lab. I suspected he'd done something bad but I never thought it'd be something like this."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," Chris told her earnestly after a morbid beat of silence.

"Don't worry about it," she responded, still in lowered tones but he could hear the thick quality to her voice. "We'll rest up, regroup and then we'll track him down." She said it so confidently that he felt a genuine smile tug at his lips. He nodded, about to ruffle her short hair fondly but he was pulled into a hug. The grip of her petite hands on his lower back was stronger than he expected as he wrapped her into a comforting bear hug. Eventually they pulled apart again, Rebecca briskly wiping the tears from her eyes before they could trickle down her checks.

"Come on, let's head back to the others." As they started back, it hit him and hit him hard that the 'others' he had referred to were down to a mere two people out of the eight it should have been. He stopped abruptly at the entrance to the hospital, rummaging in his pockets for the disks of combat data. He had fully expected to find them both missing; when his fingers brushed against a sharp corner and he pulled the plastic case out, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise, desperation dissipating. Wesker had taken one copy and left Chris the other.  _I guess you kept your promise, huh?_  The brunette thought wryly, not as relieved as he knew he should be.  _Of course it was too much to ask you to hand yourself in..._  Sighing, he hurried into the hospital to catch up with Rebecca.

* * *

Later that day, back at the Raccoon City Police Department, Chris slammed open the doors to Alpha Team's office. He was so furious that he picked up the nearest chair and hurled it across the room, knocking over a lamp and scattering some papers off Wesker's characteristically, impeccable desk. Not that it belonged to him any more anyhow.

"What the hell, Chris?!" Brad had been sitting on his cluttered table beside the door, nursing a cup of coffee but Chris' outburst had startled him to his feet with his hand splayed as if to shield himself. Brown splashes stained his fresh change of clothes.

"Fucking Irons, that's what, Brad," Chris retorted scathingly before hooking his hands behind his neck and pacing around the room.

"Why?" The pilot asked dumbly, screwing up his face in confusion and taking a dainty sip of his drink.

"Chief Irons is brushing the whole incident under the rug," explained an equally outraged Jill, who had followed Chris in. Her voice however, was a lot more calm in comparison to her partner's; she stood stiffly by the doors, her arms crossed. "He told us to drop it, that there was no point investigating any further."

"Wait, really?" Brad gaped, looking between his teammates as he put down his cup. "But I thought you had a tonne of evidence?" He looked at Chris, who in turn stopped in his tracks to mirror his partner's stance.

"Do you think he bothered looking at it? He said the case was closed and we should just forget about it," Chris fumed, glaring at nothing and wishing he could knock some sense into the annoying old man. No wonder their ex-captain was always so tetchy after meeting with him. "Umbrella's gotta be black-mailing or bribing him or something. It's too suspicious that he would dismiss us otherwise." Jill nodded, releasing a frustrated breath before her expression turned carefully bleak.

"Do you think that's why Wesker was here?" Chris glanced at her quickly, eyebrows furrowing at the unwanted suggestion.

"At this point, I wouldn't put anything past him," was all he muttered in reply, putting his back to Jill's sympathetic eyes and Brad's bafflement. "I don't think we have to worry too much about him though- if we follow Umbrella's tracks, I'm sure we'll catch up with him sooner or later." He rubbed the back of his head self-consciously, walking over to his desk and slumping down into his chair.

"Yeah, I think you're right," Jill murmured thoughtfully, but he wasn't really paying attention any more, staring blindly at the black screen of his computer.

He still hadn't slept or eaten anything since their return, simply got himself patched up before heading straight here with Jill and Rebecca. It was strange- the threat of nightmarish monsters eating them alive was no more, blown up with the rest of that evil mansion, but Chris felt it as if they were still trapped there among the zombies and decay. Reality wasn't quite settling in with him. He felt like he was in a fever dream, that he would wake up back in that medicine room where he had found Rebecca. Maybe he would wake up to find that Wesker wasn't a traitor after all...No, there was no use entertaining such thoughts. He wouldn't allow himself to sink into denial. He wasn't asleep; they  _were_  back; but he was right that it wasn't over yet. They still had a fight to win and they would. He didn't care what Irons had said, he wasn't going to back down until Umbrella were finished.

"Uh, where's Barry? Still in the hospital?" Brad awkwardly asked, breaking the dead silence after a couple of minutes in which Chris had lowered his forehead to his desk and closed his eyes.

"He discharged himself as soon as he woke up. He went to be with his family," Jill answered softly and Chris raised his head at the sound of her boots crossing the office towards him. He smiled tiredly as she slid into her chair behind him. "We should probably call it a day, get some proper rest." He hummed in consent, spinning his chair slightly in her direction, but he gazed at the front where Wesker's workstation sat, abandoned.

"Sounds like a plan," Brad chimed lightly in a weak effort to brighten up the atmosphere. He stood up from his seat, but their attentions were snagged by the opening of the door, loud and creaking in the quiet.

"Hey, guys," Rebecca greeted them, looking in a far better mood than previously.

"Rebecca," Chris smiled.

"Hey, how are you holding up?" Jill said in a maternal tone, sitting forward in her seat. The young medic nodded at them, hesitating a little in the doorway and wringing her hands. There was no need to be nervous, Chris thought vaguely, Rebecca would be joining them in this office soon enough, according to Irons. Something about merging the teams to free up Bravo's office. Not that there was a full team left to merge with theirs.

"I'm okay. I was thinking that maybe I'll stay here tonight in one of the on-call rooms..." She trailed off, trying to keep the visible grief at bay. Chris was about to speak but Jill beat him to it, getting back to her feet and approaching the shorter girl.

"Good idea. Would it be okay if I stayed with you?"

"Oh," Rebecca began with raised, delicate eyebrows, but a grateful grin twitched up the corners of her lips. "Actually, I'd really appreciate that, Jill. I don't really wanna be alone right now..."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," the mousy haired woman agreed whole-heartedly, putting an arm around her and squeezing in support. Jill glanced at Chris and Brad. "We'll see you both tomorrow, I guess." It sounded more like a question and Chris' chest tightened fractionally as a result.

"Yeah, of course, Jill," he reassured, splitting a determined smile between them. "You two be safe."

"You too, Chris," Rebecca replied sincerely before the two of them offered Brad a nod in parting and left.

"I'm gonna get going too," the pilot said, looking a little uncertainly at Chris as he stepped over to the door. "Think I'll hit the hay early tonight, with all the craziness we've been through..." The brunette resisted pointing out that Brad had hardly been in the thick of it, simply gave a half-hearted wave.

"'Night, Brad."

"'Night, Chris."

The second the door closed again, he put his face in his hands, breathing deeply in and out a few times. He didn't move for a while, concentrating on his breathing and blocking out unpleasant images. At length, he tugged his chair back under his desk and reached for his telephone, dialling one of the only numbers he knew by heart. He waited as it rang on and on, about to reluctantly reset it when he finally got an answer.

"Chris?"

"Claire," he sighed in relief, despite the fact that he was the one who had been at death's door all too recently. "Hey, how're you doing, kid?"

"Still with the 'kid'," she faux-complained, tone oozing amusement. "I'm just out with some friends, we're gonna make a night of it- and before you start with the lecture, I'm currently acing my exams."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't think...but that's really great to hear, Claire. I'm proud of you, you know that?" There was a pregnant pause and the brunette tried to force himself into a more upbeat attitude.

"Are you okay, Chris?" Claire's voice came through before he could continue, now distinctly anxious and concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Claire. Don't worry," he hastily replied in a placating tone even as he pressed his eyelids closed with his thumb and finger. "It's just been awhile, I wanted to see how you were doing."

"We spoke last week..." his sister reminded him slowly before her tone grew strict, not taking 'I'm fine' for an answer. "What's wrong, Chris?" He briefly held the phone away from his ear, struggling to swallow past the sharp obstacle in his throat.

"It's just been one of those days. Don't worry about it, Claire. You're busy so I'll give you a call tomorrow, okay?" He managed to sound remarkably casual this time and he was thankful for it.

"Do you need me to drive down? I'm okay to skip a few days-" she started to fuss, still not entirely convinced but he cut her off, tone strengthening in brotherly authority.

"You're not skipping college, Claire," he stated in finality and he heard her huff faintly on the other end. He almost felt himself chuckle, settling instead for a lopsided grin. "Don't pout, you know it doesn't suit you. Listen, have fun out tonight, Claire- but don't do anything stupid or that I wouldn't do, alright?"

"Well which is it?" She inquired with a fresh lilt of sarcasm. "Something  _stupid_  or something you  _wouldn't_  do?"

"Hey, knock it off, kid," he quipped, but there was affection pillowing his words. "I'm older, I don't do stupid or irresponsible things."

"Yeah, whatever you say, Chris."

"Anyway, I'll let you go now. Your friends are probably missing you," he said in a more subdued voice but he was still smiling through his exhaustion. "I'll call tomorrow."

"Promise, Chris," his sister demanded in a suddenly serious tone. He sighed but nodded his head as he replied.

"Okay, okay. I promise."

* * *

After a thorough shower and change into his civvies, Chris found himself on a barstool in the RPD's local, knocking back his second shot of whiskey. It was barely early evening but he didn't care. He'd already bought himself a pack of smokes on the way over, stopping to smoke a couple outside. He knew it wasn't healthy on an empty stomach but with his headache gone, he'd needed it desperately. Slamming his empty glass down on the bar unnecessarily, he gestured the bartender over.

"Hey, man, you should go easy," the youngish man said, tossing a tea towel over his shoulder.

"If I wanted your advice, I would've asked for it," he returned harshly, roughly pushing his glass forward. "So pour the damn drink." He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead lethargically.

"Hey, now-" the man started, sounding mildly affronted, but he was interrupted by a newcomer.

"There's no need for that, is there, Chris?" The brunette's head shot sideways, blue eyes hardening dangerously at the blond in the black mac and shades. "I apologise for my friend's lack of manners," Wesker said, addressing the bartender with a deceptively peaceable smirk on his face, ignoring Chris' scoff. "Would you be so kind as to get him another? Don't worry, it will be his last." Chris' glare grew heated at Wesker's audacity, watching him pull up a stool beside him.

"No problem," the bartender acquiesced hesitantly, retrieving the bottle of whiskey. Wesker turned to meet Chris' anger head on, a small smile curling up the corners of his lips.

"Starting a bit early, aren't you?"

"What the hell are you doing here, Wesker?" Chris hissed under his breath, flushed from the alcohol but luckily not feeling the full affects quite yet. "After the stunt you pulled at the hospital, why bother showing up again?" He took a hearty swallow of his newly refilled drink and gritted his teeth, staring stubbornly down into it. Wesker leaned his arm across the counter and rested his hand on the rim of Chris' glass to regain his attention.

"I had business to take care of," he answered quietly, intimately almost, giving a half shrug. Chris gazed back, no less angry as he tried to focus on the outlines of the blond's eyes behind the shades, instead of his own sorry reflection. "Besides, I was a sitting duck there- just like I would be at the RPD." The brunette narrowed his eyes before glancing away.

"You made your bed," he muttered darkly, becoming aware of their proximity as Wesker's muted sigh lightly caressed his cheek. He shifted a little in discomfort, contemplating removing the blond's hand from his glass but not wanting to make skin-contact. "What do you want, Wesker?" He asked finally, looking back up. He hated the damned shades even more now, after all the hours of being able to see the man's eyes. There was no longer any reason for Wesker to hide his eyes from him, not now. The older man continued to look at him, a blank expression adorning his features.

"You're not going to arrest me?" He stated more than asked in a strangely mellow tone, his voice almost inaudible under the gradually rising din of the bar. Chris shook his head, looking away and releasing a short, sardonic laugh.

"As if you'd let me." He knocked Wesker's arm, prompting him to retract his hand from its place on his glass. Polishing off the remainder of his whiskey, he got unceremoniously to his feet.

"I don't suppose you want my gift then?" The blond taunted, causing him to pause in throwing on his leather jacket.

"What could I possibly want from you?" He dead-panned, watching the blond idly toy with a beer mat. Wesker glanced up at him over his shoulder with a 'do you really want me to answer that?' look. His jaw locked. "I'm outta here."

"Chris," the blond began as he moved to leave, stopping him with a hand on his waist. He could have touched him anywhere else- grabbed his arm, his wrist- but he'd gone for somewhere bordering on intimate and Chris resented him for the cheap move. He didn't shrug it off however, choosing to appear calm and unaffected under the blond's undoubtedly calculating gaze. It wasn't because he enjoyed the sensation. "You're going to need all the help and  _evidence_  you can get your hands on..." he trailed off to gauge Chris' reaction, seeing the interest peaked at his words. "Are you truly willing to cut your nose off to spite your face? Just accept it, Chris, accept the way you feel and come to terms with it."

"The way I 'feel' has nothing to do with this," Chris denied, appalled, lowering his voice so as not to cause a scene. "If you've got something for me, then hand it over and get the hell out of my life already." The hand on his waist tightened for an instant, fingers digging in and he tensed up further in response. A jolt of electricity coursed through his veins. He pulled back a little from where he'd been subconsciously leaning down towards the blond, but there was no need. Tossing some cash onto the counter for Chris' drink, Wesker rose to stand in front of him, fine eyebrows drawn together in what he could only decipher as irritation.

"It's back at my apartment," Wesker told him as he slid his wallet back into the pocket of his coat, without looking in his direction. "Shall we?" He added, but he didn't wait around to see if Chris would follow. The brunette cursed half-heartedly, apprehension descending onto his shoulders like lead weights. Or maybe that was a means of suppressing anticipation...Cursing again for good measure, he made his way out of the bar.

Wesker was standing by a street lamp that was only now flickering to life, his hands in his pockets and his face impassive. Chris pulled his cigarettes from his jacket, placing one between his lips before putting the pack away and fishing for his gold, flip-top lighter.

"You're not smoking in my car," Wesker warned with evident distaste once he reached him. He refrained from lighting up to respond dismissively.

"I'll follow on my bike."

"It's back at the precinct," the blond batted back easily without missing a beat. "Regardless, you've been drinking." Chris didn't want to think about how he knew where he'd left his bike, merely clicked his lighter shut and proceeded to put it away along with his smoke.

"Fine. Whatever."

"Keep up."

* * *

The ride over was uneasy to say the least. A heavy blanket of oppressive silence filled the car, making Chris' leg jig restlessly. He half had a mind to reel down the window and light up anyway- the traitor could stew in his annoyance.

"Chris," Wesker intoned then and he jerked in his seat, leg ceasing its motion. "I make you that nervous?" He bristled at the teasing in the older man's tone but caught himself, not rising to the bait.

"You know, me and Jill went to see Chief Irons when we got back," he began in a steely voice, blinking away the absurd feeling of normalcy that lapsed over them. The blond hummed, a mocking smile lingering on his lips as Chris continued. "He wouldn't listen to a thing we said, didn't even glance at the evidence we laid out for him."

"Can't say I'm surprised," Wesker murmured as he stopped at a red light and looked over at him. "He is being bribed by Umbrella after all." Having his suspicions confirmed had Chris slumping with an immediate pressure of helplessness. He hadn't imagined quite how hard it might be fighting Umbrella back when he was boarding the helicopter home. As bizarre as the situation at the mansion had been, everything had seemed a lot more simple.

"That piece of shit..." he uttered more to himself, leaning back against the head rest as the lights turned green and Wesker drove on. "How does that kind of corruption go unnoticed?" Realising precisely what he'd just said, he looked quickly at Wesker, who was already turning his raised eyebrow back to the road. The daunting quiet stretched out between them once more and he allowed his eyelids to drift closed.

"Chris...Chris, we're here."

* * *

Wesker's apartment was equal parts what he expected and not what he expected. It was stylish, leaning towards minimalistic on the scale, with a sleek, black counter-top kitchen area, a leather corner sofa positioned in the centre of the room instead of the actual corner and clean, cream walls and carpet. The bits of furniture were a homely cedar wood however, rather than the metallic or beige types he'd pictured. The overall size and layout were what surprised him the most; it was very similar, if not exactly the same as his own less well kept apartment, the only noticeable differences being the better décor and order. That, along with being in a far more discreet, recently renovated part of the city.

Standing by the sofa, he hungrily took in every detail with his curious gaze as he pulled his arms free of his jacket. All of a sudden, he felt distinctly out of place, forcing down the urge to fidget. Wesker slung his mac over the back of the sofa as he passed by, heading to the corner created by the kitchens divider where he had a computer desk set up. There was a tall, thin shelving unit beside it, full of files and books alike. He dumped his jacket down belatedly next to Wesker's, wondering absently why he'd bothered to take it off in the first place.

"Alright, Chris," the blond said over his shoulder once he'd finished booting up his computer and bringing up a number of documents on the screen. "Come sit." Chris wandered over, warily eyeing the blond as he vacated his seat in favour of him. Even in his own house, Wesker was wearing the damn shades. He gave a frustrated shake of his head but didn't comment on it.

"Okay, what am I looking at?" He asked somewhat inwardly as he began to skim through the information displayed on the screen. It was the profile of an Umbrella worker. He clicked to another open window to see a list of facilities among blue prints.

"What you're looking at, Chris, is every piece of intel I've acquired over the years," Wesker explained as casually as if he were remarking on the weather. "Every employee, facility- most of which are situated beneath or within public buildings and isolated mansions. Admittedly, there are things even I don't know about Umbrella, with how cryptically they've masked a lot of their behind the scenes dealings; but everything on this disk..." He paused to raise said disk in his hand, Chris glancing up at him with furrowed eyebrows. "...should be more than sufficient enough for you to work with." With that, Wesker offered it over, his expression veiled succinctly. Chris slowly accepted the 'gift', heart and mind tumultuous with confusion and scepticism. The idea of the blond helping him in such a valuable way, without expecting anything in return was completely incomprehensible to him.

"Why, Wesker? I don't..." He trailed off to stare up at the older man, needing an answer and hoping for a real one.

"It's as I said, Chris," Wesker responded patiently, leaning against the back of his sofa with loosely folded arms. "My parting gift to you." The brunette's stomach knotted at the thought of them parting ways, but he ignored it.

"That doesn't tell me  _why_ ," he pressed, utter mystification colouring his tones. "There's gotta be a catch." A miniscule smile came upon the blond's face then and he was momentarily shocked at just how genuine it looked.

"Think of it this way, Chris: any and all misfortune that befalls Umbrella, benefits me. That's it."

"My enemy's enemy is my friend..." He muttered thoughtfully, catching the subtle widening of Wesker's smile.

"Precisely."

"Sounds like you," he commented, face darkening a little. "But fine, I get it." He sighed, a dichotomy forming in his mind. He couldn't be displeased with the idea of Wesker being well off, where Umbrella failed because he wanted nothing more than to bring the evil corporation down; but he also knew that Wesker deserved to be rotting away in prison along with the heads of Umbrella. It was so disconcerting having his mind split in such a way that he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the influencing aspects of his heart as well. He glanced listlessly back at the computer, a question flitting to the surface.

"I guess I'll find no mention of you in all this...?" The flutter in his stomach in response to the deep chuckle Wesker emitted didn't sit well with him, but he did his best not to let it show.

"You guess correctly," the blond replied lightly and he caught the movement of him removing his shades in his peripheral vision. "There's nothing of myself or Will in those documents. I couldn't very well sell him out." Something snapped in Chris at that, his hackles rising.

"But you could sell us out?" He demanded hotly, glaring over at the blond. The glare lost steam however, at finding disarming, greyish blue eyes gazing back at him instead of black shields.

"He has a family," Wesker answered plainly, face remaining calm despite the antagonism that had radiated off of Chris. "He has a lot more to lose than his research. Although sometimes I do wonder if he realises that himself." Chris swallowed sharply, barely able to maintain eye-contact with how open the blond's features currently were, the faint hint of fondness hidden there. He wasn't entirely sure who the look was directed at- himself or the friend Wesker was speaking of.

"You must've known him a really long time," he found himself saying, uselessly.  _And vice versa_ , he thought, feeling numb at the reminder that for the years he had worked with Wesker, he had never truly got to know him. He'd learned more about him in the past twenty four hours than he had during those years; including disguising his and Umbrella's experiments under the pretence of the STARS captain. No, it wasn't all pretend, he allowed. Wesker had been a good captain to them, all things considered. He'd trained them, strengthened them both individually and as a team, lead them proudly and helped them solve countless cases. Wesker had saved lives, they all had. Chris couldn't help but think that Wesker's true identity as a cold, ruthless scientist would always feel surreal to him. Eventually, clasping his intel disk tightly in his hand, he stood up.

"Going so soon?" The blond smirked mildly, eyebrow quirked as he looked down at his folded arms. Chris wordlessly walked around the sofa to where he'd left his jacket and put it on.

"I...I wont forget this," he said begrudgingly, gesturing to the disk as Wesker turned to face him. That was all the thanks he was prepared to give the traitor. He put the disk away and zipped up his jacket. "The next time we see each other, I won't let you walk away. You've helped us out so I'll let things slide for now, but...some day we'll hunt you down and we will take you in. We can't allow your crimes to go unpunished forever. We owe it to our comrades and so do you." Wesker stood with a hand resting on his hip, a thoughtful smile lighting his tanned features and his eyes downcast.

At the lack of immediate response, Chris reluctantly took his leave, heading to the front door. He turned the handle but a hand pushed against the door, preventing his exit.

"Something tells me your goodbye is a little premature." His incredulous eyes hastily followed the line of Wesker's arm to meet the latter's laughing eyes. Their faces were so close that he stilled, frantically trying to stay in control of his body's automatic reactions.

"Let me leave, Wesker," he said in a hard, commanding tone that he hadn't known he had in him, storm clouds gathering within his blue orbs. Wesker gazed at him serenely despite the static energy fusing between them. He leaned further down and Chris clenched his teeth against a tide of raw impulse.

"I'm going to visit you later tonight," the blond promised in a velvety voice, so low that it was almost a whisper. Chris' lips parted of their own accord as his breathing grew ragged. "Answer or don't answer; it's your decision, Chris." Wesker's eyes were intense with the kind of untempered, predatory want that called out to Chris' own, eyes glowing more blue than grey for once. With difficulty, Chris pried his gaze from it's temporary prison, hand yanking the door open. Wesker's arm fell back to his side but the brunette didn't stay a second longer, shoving out of the apartment with a resounding slam.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters song is: Depeche Mode "Stripped" Cover by Message To Venus

Chris lay awake, blanket twisted and strewn across his bed from all the restless tossing and turning he'd done over the course of three hours. He'd taken to bed after a shower and wash upon his arrival home, doing his best to ignore Wesker's promise of a late night call. Sleep evaded him however much he wished for it, wanting nothing more than to sleep through Wesker's inevitable knocking so that he may be spared the difficult decision of answering or not. At the back of his mind, he knew he would never be able to resist the blond's call, not right now, not when their history was still so vividly clear in his memories. Years from now perhaps he would have gained enough distance and clarity to turn his back on Wesker, to say no; but right now all he could think about was how it would feel to finally have his most secret desire quenched, if only for one night. The kisses they had shared back on the Spencer estate plagued his mind- the texture, the taste, the feelings that had risen so dangerously close to the surface like flowers starved of sunshine. The remembered sensations had warmed his body to an uncomfortable height that had his legs agitatedly kicking off his blanket and his skin itching for freedom from his loose white t-shirt and navy, checkered pyjama bottoms.

He craned his neck up abruptly, eyes searching through the dark for the luminescent red numbers of his alarm clock.  _01:13_. He lowered his head again slowly, staring up at the ceiling and toying with the fast-forming idea that Wesker wasn't going to show up after all. The conflicted emotions already knotting his stomach tightened, his hands fisting in the sheets. It was more than disappointment and fierce longing that racked his frame in response, it was the possibility of leaving things between them indefinitely unresolved. If Wesker didn't come- regardless of whether he answered the door or not- it would leave Chris with nothing more than an unfulfilled promise that would undoubtedly haunt him for years on end.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hands clasping behind his neck as he bowed his head in premature defeat. Wesker couldn't do that to him- he wouldn't let him...but even as he thought that, he knew he wouldn't be having any choice in the matter.

"Damnit," he muttered with an impulsive pound of his fist against the mattress.  _So that's how it is...?_  He thought into the quiet well that occupied one corner of his mind, reserved only for his ex-captain.  _Leaving me dangling here, not able to leave and forget about you but not able to reach you either._ In that moment, he realised that Wesker had always been like that- drawing Chris into his orbit time and time again, anchoring his heart to him but never taking the final step to reach out, to touch, to claim physically. Every time Chris found himself subconsciously gravitating too close, Wesker would retreat under his mask of captaincy and professionalism. As natural and instinctive as the brunette's actions had been, he'd remained unaware of their subtle dance at the time, but now he saw it for what it really was. Wesker had kept him at arms length because if he'd allowed him any closer, Chris would have eventually discovered his duplicitous nature and blown his cover wide open.

Maybe he  _had_  got to know Wesker during their years serving together, even if just a tiny glimpse. He felt an absurd bout of laughter bubble to his lips, releasing a short, condensed part of it into the silence enveloping his room. He almost wished his bedroom was situated on the opposite side of the apartment, where the sounds of the city's nightlife seeped through the walls and windows, preventing feelings of isolation.

After a long moment, Chris rubbed his face with a hand and sighed, climbing wearily to his feet. He moved forward, out through the bedroom door he had a habit of leaving ajar and padded down the hallway with it in mind to fetch a glass of water for his parched mouth. Four lethargic steps had him at the junction where the hall lead into the main living area of his apartment, but he immediately flattened against the left wall, out of sight of his front door. His obnoxiously loud buzzer had sounded, catching him woefully off guard and sending his heartbeat into a frantic sprint.  _Shit! It's him...!_ He was frozen like a deer caught in the headlights, not knowing what to do, what option to choose. His blood soared with excitement and anticipation at the knowledge that Wesker had come, urging him to go to the door. However, he was torn by the reminder of who Wesker truly was, of what he'd done and could do in the future.

The buzzer rang a second time, alerting Chris unpleasantly to the fact that the blond wouldn't wait out there all night. He had to decide fast or relinquish control to the passing of time. He knew he'd regret it forever if he allowed that to happen. It was his decision to make and he would make it, he scolded himself firmly. The length between the first two buzzes told Chris that Wesker in some small way appreciated that he might need more time to hastily think the decision through and his chest ached with gratitude for that. His palms were clammy against the cool wall as he attempted to moderate his breathing. He knew exactly what letting Wesker in would mean, what would follow if he was to do so. He also knew that going down that road would lead him to another decision- a potentially life-changing one- in the aftermath of tonight. On the other hand, if he was to refuse Wesker's proposition, it would be the end of everything between them, absolutely final- a path with no return.

The buzzer rang again and Chris baulked at it, sliding down the wall until he was sitting and grasping his spiky hair in his hands. Wesker wouldn't be ringing again, he was certain of that, but he couldn't do it, couldn't decide. He knew what he should do- he should go back to bed, deny Wesker. They were on opposing sides of the law now, no longer fighting side by side and no good could ever come from sleeping with the enemy. However, there was also what he wanted, yearned to do and that was to see his former captain completely bare of everything. No masks, no rules or regulations, no hiding behind black shades, nothing but the man himself, the human without the armour. To witness Wesker in that light and to share their all too genuine passion with each other, was all he had ever really wanted. He didn't know if he had it in him to refuse himself that one luxury.

His head jerked up, mind snapping free from its binding dilemma. He'd waited too long. Had Wesker already left? His veins flooded with panic-fuelled adrenaline, pushing him back up onto his feet. He stilled for a split second, raising a hand to the wall to steady himself as guilt clawed its way up his throat. One by one he recalled the faces of his lost comrades, as he so often did lately. He had loved them and would miss them dearly...but if he let Wesker slip through his fingers with the strong possibility of never finding him again, he didn't believe he would be able to stem the gaping wound the blond would leave in his wake. He closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered out, voice cracking ever so slightly. Maybe he was apologising to his fallen teammates, maybe to the ones still breathing; or maybe he was apologising to himself for giving in to such tainted needs and emotions, but he didn't stop to dwell on it. There was no longer anything to mentally debate, only action that needed to be taken. He all but threw himself around the corner and to the front door. Flinging it wide, he continued out into the corridor with only half a beats pause at finding no one on his doorstep.

His hurried steps came to a halt the second his deep blue eyes landed on the retreating back before him. Wesker had stopped too, glancing back over his shoulder towards the mildly panting brunette, shades strictly in place. Chris swallowed thickly, straightening his back in a faux dignified manner and crossing his arms loosely over his chest. Wesker gradually turned and walked back towards him with the calm demeanour Chris was so used to. His mind reeled with chaotic thoughts that he struggled to keep out of his face as the space between them diminished. He smothered down all traces of fear and vulnerability, displaying a stern decisiveness in their stead and just about managing to keep his eyes trained on where he knew Wesker's were behind the damned shades.

When the blond reached him, he wordlessly returned to the warmth of his apartment, knowing that Wesker was following him in and feeling a spike of nervous energy up his spine in reaction. He closed the door behind them as Wesker took a few steps into his living area, eyes no doubt scanning every homely, lived-in detail of his apartment. It was too quiet and tense with neither of them speaking but somehow no words came to Chris, giving him a taut sense that if either of them were to speak their thoughts, it would ruin the moment. Steeling his nerves, he boldly walked up behind Wesker and made to remove his black mac. He felt the blond stiffen at first but once it was clear what he was doing, the former acquiesced to his help. He hung the coat up on his rack by the door amongst his own before turning back to find Wesker openly appraising him.

The blond was in the same clothes he'd worn earlier; a grey shirt open slightly at the neck and the sleeves rolled up, tucked into smart black trousers. A black gun holster was still in place around his shoulders- Chris vaguely remembered seeing it back at Wesker's, although it had seemed to blend into the rest of the blond's attire. He was so used to seeing Wesker, as well as his other STARS teammates geared up that he'd barely noticed at the time. That worried him somewhat, considering how close to danger he had really been, alone in an apartment with a spy and a traitor to his own tactical force, but he pushed those thoughts aside. He was alone with Wesker right now but even so, some part of him, bigger than any of his doubts, believed and trusted for the first time in his life that Wesker not only wanted him but wanted him more than anything else, even if for this one moment, this one night.

Slowly, he reapproached the older man, chin up, shunning any previous feelings of shame and pride. He couldn't let himself feel bad about what he was about to do, no matter how much guilt lingered on after the fact. He had accepted all the consequences for the actions he was about to take and he would fight Umbrella, would fight to hunt Wesker down in the future if need be, in order to redeem himself and honour the lives of his comrades.

Having registered Chris' eyeing of his weapon, Wesker removed the holster and leaned over to drop it with a dull thud onto a nearby side table where his keys lived. Chris' heart swelled at the gesture, waiting for the blond to straighten up before stepping into his personal space with only a tad of hesitation. He tilted his head a fraction to look up into Wesker's inscrutable face, hand raising confidently to tug the shades he loathed off of his nose. He tossed them carelessly aside, listening as they skidded to a stop on the laminated slats of the floor before glancing back up. His gaze was captured by tranquil, greyish eyes that looked more blue for the moment and were flickering with mild amusement.

Now that Wesker's expression was open to him or as open as it could be, Chris filled with relief, bunched muscles relaxing. He sensed more than felt the corners of his mouth curling up into a tentative smile as they continued to study one another. Fingertips began trailing up the back of his hand, over his knuckles and up his arm, causing his hairs to stand on end. His eyes darkened in want as he found himself focusing on the blond's lips, his own parting under his accelerated breathing. Wesker's hand had slid beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt to grasp his bare shoulder, thumb absently caressing his skin. He leaned up, hands coming to rest against the blond's lower back and his eyelids fluttering closed.

The smooth texture of Wesker's mouth was exactly as he remembered; but it was the taste of him as they mutually opened their mouths for each other and meshed tongues that had heat spreading like wildfire across his cheeks, boiling in his blood. His fingers clenched in the expensive material of Wesker's shirt as the latter's fingers did likewise, almost biting into the skin of his shoulder while the other hand cupped the back of his neck. Wesker's tongue delved deep into his mouth, drawing a stifled groan of pleasure from him that would have had him blushing in embarrassment if he wasn't already red in the face. He wasn't used to people bringing such noises out of him- it was usually the other way around- but something told him that more would follow under his ex-captain's ministrations. He pushed back, licking into Wesker's mouth to give as good as he got, their bodies pressed insistently against each other.

He reached for the hem of his t-shirt, pulling back as he began rucking it up his torso but Wesker's mouth followed after him, hungrily reclaiming his mouth and affirming the grip on his neck. He hummed, smiling into the kiss in response, letting the older man have his way for a couple of timeless seconds before pulling back again just long enough to yank his t-shirt over his head. Wesker's attention went straight to his newly bared body, fingers moving to trace lightly over the countless cuts, patches of bruises varying in severity and squares of white gauze taped on over still healing injuries. Goosebumps rose across the creamy plains of his torso and up his arms at the wandering touch, his chest heaving noticeably as the blond's gaze locked with his once more. The fire he saw in Wesker's predatory eyes only added fuel to his own and he leaned up to link their lips again, his approach a lot more demanding this time.

His hands started on the buttons of Wesker's shirt as their mouths and tongues battled for dominance, the blond grazing his bottom lip with his teeth and tugging on it playfully. He sucked in a startled yet wanton breath when two strong hands slid over his ass and gave him a provocative squeeze that caused friction between their groins.

Finally he got the last button undone and impatiently pushed Wesker's shirt open, hands exploring the glorious tanned skin that stretched over hard abdominal muscles before running upwards over nipples and firm pectorals. His mouth descended onto the as yet uncharted territory, leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses along an elegant collarbone, while Wesker shrugged out of his shirt and discarded it unceremoniously onto the floor. Chris moved his hands around to the blond's back in the need of holding his body even tighter against his own, however he paused at the feeling of thick bandage covering the length of the older man's spine. He immediately repositioned his hands to Wesker's waist, looking up questioningly in the hopes that he hadn't caused any pain or discomfort to his soon-to-be lover. Wesker shook his head imperceptibly and leaned down to suck at the sensitive skin on the side of his neck, successfully short-circuiting his brain so that all he could focus on was the tantalising sensation and the blood that had already started pooling in his nether regions, pulsing with urgency. A deep guttural noise fell from his lips at the combination of nibbling teeth and lavish tongue acting as a salve, one of his hands lifting to curl in Wesker's fine, golden locks to hold him there. He could have sworn he felt Wesker's lips smirk against his skin at the reactions he was producing but his mind was too clouded over with desire to care.

When he didn't think he could take the sweet torture any longer, he just about managed to back up, hooking his fingers into the front of Wesker's trousers to coax him round towards his bedroom. The blond however, stopped them in their tracks and swept him up off the floor and into his muscular arms. Chris' legs automatically wrapped around the blond's waist, classic boyish grin springing to his features as Wesker tilted his head back towards him, mouth seeking his. The brunette eagerly obliged, swirling his tongue around Wesker's and looping his arms around his neck.

It was a wonder that they made it into his bedroom with all the attention they were paying to where they were going, but they got there eventually and Chris was all but thrown onto his bed. His sore leg was protesting faintly but he paid it no mind. He hastily propped himself up on his elbows to watch mesmerised as Wesker kicked off his shoes before undoing his trousers and pushing them down and off in one fluid movement, his socks soon following. Veins thrumming with anticipation, he looked on with hooded eyes as Wesker stalked forwards and crawled onto the bed like a jaguar hunting its prey, hovering above him momentarily. Chris belatedly took the opportunity to shimmy out of his pyjama bottoms, rendering himself completely naked, Wesker's navy boxer briefs being the only thing in the way of their entire bodies meeting. Wesker looked downwards briefly, regarding him with obvious interest before his gaze returned to his face, his pupils fully dilated, making his eyes look nearly black as night and glinting with a raw intensity that sent a pleasurable shudder throughout the marksmen's body. He arched upwards, urging the blond to lower as he stroked his palms up his chest to rest at the junctions of his neck.

Wesker finally, deliberately lay his body atop of Chris', leaning his forearms on the mattress either side of the brunette and swiping at his mouth with a sensual kiss. Chris welcomed it with fervour, sucking Wesker's top lip into his mouth as he glided his hands down to feel the definition of the older man's biceps. Without warning, the blond ground his hips down against Chris', causing the latter to bite his lip and close his eyes, lower half thrusting up in return. Warm breath caressed his features, which although tired were flushed with arousal as Wesker released a stunted breath.

Daringly, at least where his ex-captain was concerned, he grabbed at one of Wesker's thighs to hook it up on his hip before rolling them so that he was on top. Beneath the mild exasperation the blond flashed him in response, he could clearly read the highly entertained tint to his one-sided smirk. He kissed him hard but fleetingly before mapping a pathway down to one of the older man's nipples with his lips and tongue. He circled the sensitive nub in a slow, teasing manner as his right hand dragged up and down Wesker's muscle-thickened thigh, nails scraping lightly.

He couldn't begin to describe the whirlpool of emotions that were assaulting him, not merely because of what he was doing but because of the fact that Wesker was allowing him to do it. He had Albert Wesker exactly where deep down, he'd always dreamed of having him- on his back, beneath him and utterly at his mercy. It was almost surreal, as if any second he might wake up with his head on his desk back at the RPD, pillowed by a mess of paperwork that stuck to his cheek; but it wasn't a dream. This was really happening.

Catching him completely off guard, Wesker flipped them back over, taking back control and dispelling the small spark of annoyance rising within Chris by stealing the breath from him. Temporarily incapacitated, he subconsciously found his hands skimming down the blond's body and slipping into his underwear. He kneaded the smooth flesh of Wesker's ass, headily pleased at the ripple that went through the blond, writhing their groins together to heighten the sensation. Wesker buried his face in Chris' neck, the latter thinking he heard a growl-like purr emit from the older man but he was too honed in on the rubbing of his aching member against the cotton-encased hardness of Wesker's to truly hear it.

His body more than his mind decided that this heated foreplay was going on for too long and he rolled them again, trembling fingers all but ripping Wesker's boxers down and off his legs. They were both panting heavily, skin growing increasingly sweat slickened and he relished in it. His erection practically painful by this point, he reclaimed Wesker's already kiss-swollen mouth, sloppy and wet in his near desperation. The brushing of their members skin on skin against each other sent shock-waves of gratification through his limbs, up his spine and he hitched up Wesker's legs to settle between steely thighs. His efforts were usurped once again however, when Wesker threw him off onto his back and straddled his waist; his hands were pinned to the mattress either side of his head, their fingers clasped.

"Chris," Wesker intoned lowly, voice huskier than the brunette had ever heard it and he glanced up with desire-laden blue eyes. "If you keep fighting me, we're not going to get very far." He blinked, attempting to sit up and continue where they'd left off but Wesker's fingers tightened on his. "Uh-uh-uh," the blond tutted in a velvet purr, shaking his head slightly. Chris knew he was pouting by the amusement that lightened the blond's currently rose-gold features. He sighed impatiently.

"But I've never bottomed," he finally admitted, voice breathless as he swallowed against the thick quality of his throat. Wesker's fine eyebrows instantly quirked up in subtle amazement, a quiet yet reverberating chuckle falling from his lips.

"You really are something else, Chris," the blond murmured somewhat thoughtfully after a few seconds and Chris thought he deciphered a soft fondness in the depths of his eyes. Smiling uncommonly bashfully, the brunette lifted his head up despite the awkward position.

"Come back here," he prompted gently aloud, eyes flitting back and forth between Wesker's watchful eyes and smirking lips. The older man accepted the request, leaning down to bestow a lingering, feather-light kiss to his waiting lips, causing his stomach to flutter at the tenderness of it. He let his eyes fall half-mast as Wesker sprinkled kisses along his jaw and round to his ear where he nipped at his earlobe.

"So you enjoy coming out on top, do you, Chris?" Wesker murmured directly into his ear, sending a jolt coursing through his veins and straight to his member. He squeezed Wesker's fingers, nodding a little frantically, unable to string together a coherent reply. "Alright...but let me go first." He opened his eyes at that, meeting Wesker's intent gaze as the latter raised his head. He took a moment to deliberate, eyes drinking in all the familiar details of the blond's face as he did so, seeing the eminent patience in grey-blue eyes and knowing that he didn't have to agree if he didn't want to. There were alternative methods of giving each other pleasure; but he wanted Wesker deeply, wanted to be physically connected to him at least once in his life. He knew it would hurt at first but he wasn't going to let that hold him back. It was more fear of the unknown that had him somewhat hesitant, needing to think it through. Nevertheless, he'd known what his answer would be from the beginning and a morsel of fear and anxiety couldn't compete with the animalistic hunger he had for the man on top of him.

"Okay," he sighed wearily but with fiery determination lighting within his eyes. He was about to say more but he caught himself, not wanting to slip up and give away too much. Making love to the traitor of STARS would put him in a vulnerable enough position without verbally baring his heart as well. Something told him Wesker knew exactly how he felt anyway. The blond kissed him then, regaining his attention.

"Don't worry, Chris," Wesker spoke against his lips, a sultry glint in his all too perceptive eyes. "I'm  _very_  good." A cheeky grin tugged at the corners of Chris' mouth, creamy features brightening in the dim light of the moon filtering in through the single-hung window.

"Really? Then why don't you prove it."

Wesker gave him a crooked smile in response to his taunt, unperturbed as always. "Oh, I intend to."

Chris revelled in the renewed excitement and adrenaline pumping through him, eyeing the blond as his hands were freed from their confinements. He moved them to rest on Wesker's shoulders, fingers rubbing circles into the sun-kissed skin as the blond took to ravaging the side of his neck. It was the same side as earlier, leaving Chris to distantly ponder the extent of the love bites he'd be faced with in the morning.

"Ngh..." He savagely bit his lip in a weak attempt to stifle the moans and grunts perched under his tongue, begging for release. He clutched at the blond's shoulders, clawing almost as he arched against him for much needed friction. Wesker gradually began moving down his body, mouth and tongue never breaking away from his skin, trailing down between his pecks, over his abs, causing him to squirm where he was ticklish.

He propped himself on an arm when the blond didn't stop and return to his quivering lips. He pushed down a gasp when Wesker's strong hand wrapped around his erection, stroking lazily up and down, gaze trained on the reactions of his reddened face. It had been a long time since he'd had sex with anyone, let alone someone who meant anything to him and he wondered if that shone through in his faintly strained expression. Trust Wesker to be the type to tease, he thought, but it wasn't as though he was any different. Wesker no doubt got off on the power aspect of it, whereas Chris was more concerned with making his partner feel good, of building them up to a climax they would remember for a long time afterwards.

His eyes flew wide when his ex-captain abruptly gripped the base of his member and bent down to lick around the rim of its head. His hips jerked up instinctively as he fisted his hands in the bedsheets, watching in astonishment and lust as Wesker toyed with him with his tongue. He panted hotly through the urge to lift his hips and press his erection into that lovely open wet mouth.

Fortunately, he was spared any more of that torture when Wesker put a hand on his stomach to keep him pinned, leaving no doubt as to what would follow. The blond glanced up at him for a moment with a wicked smirk on his face, eyes narrowed seductively; and then he took his throbbing erection deep into his mouth and throat. Chris' head went back, his eyes squeezing shut and his mind whiting out. His jaw dropped despite the fact that no sound came out, his body shuddering under the waves of pleasure rolling repeatedly through it. He sank fully back down onto the bed, hands screwing up the sheets at his sides and lower half attempting to thrust up, prevented only by Wesker's unyielding hand. The combination of tongue, suction and palming at the base of his member had him in sensory overload, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip to keep unbecoming moans and whimpers from escaping his throat.

Wesker maintained a steady, satisfying pace, and instead of speeding up, he moved his hand from Chris' member to cup his balls, massaging thoroughly. The brunette couldn't hold back a loud, rough groan at that, his hips trying to buck up again.

"Wesker- I- I'm gonna-" As soon as he managed to get the words out, the hand on his stomach vanished and cool air hit his moist member, leaving him shivering and wanting. He leaned up to look at Wesker in near desperation and the blond chuckled quietly before moving to lift Chris' legs, bending them at the knees. Understanding quickly dawned on the brunette and he leant back on his elbows, nodding towards the bedside table to the blond's left. "There's lube..." he told the older man, briefly wondering if he should shift around to lay back on his pillows instead of remaining crossways on the bed like this.

While Wesker rummaged in the draw, he twisted round and kicked the mussed covers to the end of the bed, laying back down. He drew his legs up and spread them, watching with baited breath as Wesker crawled over to him and popped the lid of the tube in his hands. The cool gel was smeared over two of the blond's fingers before it was set aside on the pillow next to Chris'. The pads of Wesker's fingers caressed his tight ring of muscle in soothing, erotic motions, lips kissing down his inner thigh before the older man leaned over him with his free palm against the mattress. Chris looked up into Wesker's eyes, searching for something to focus on and biting his lip when the latter's index finger began to prod against his entrance.

A strange mixture of serenity and intensity glinted in the blond's grey-blue eyes as they gazed unflinchingly at one another, Chris finding a fraction of solace from it. The finger inched inside him and he grasped Wesker's shoulders in response, eyebrows furrowing in the faint stirring of discomfort. Pushing it all the way inside, the blond captured his mouth with unbridled passion in an obvious attempt to distract him. He kissed Wesker back heartily, trying to concentrate on the slide of the blond's mouth and tongue against his instead of the odd, stinging sensation down below. He could feel the older man's rock hard erection digging into his hip and he automatically gyrated his hips up to rub their needy members together. A groan was muffled by Wesker's devouring mouth, and the finger massaging in and out of him sped up, brushing ever so slightly against a place inside him previously undiscovered. He arched sharply, mouth breaking away from Wesker's to release a thin cry into the dark room surrounding them. His eyes widened before they squeezed shut against the invasion of the second finger, still cold as opposed to the first, which had been warmed by his insides.

Fresh heat flitted across his cheeks as the combined fingers thoroughly stroked and scissored his passage until he was used to the sensation and able to relax a bit once more. Wesker's heated breaths were billowing out across his chin and neck and Chris reopened his eyes slowly to see that the blond was breathing almost as hard as he was; probably holding himself back to properly prepare him. Absently, he reached up to touch his fingers to the flushed golden skin of Wesker's face, trailing along a beautifully pronounced cheekbone. He didn't think he'd ever actually touched Wesker's face before, the act feeling intimate on a whole other level as his rough, calloused fingers tentatively cupped the edge of the blond's jaw to coax him back down for another kiss. Wesker's face was of the same texture as his lips, smooth and velvet. Perfect.

He sucked in a breath as the blond's fingers collided with his prostate and at his reaction, repeatedly aimed in its direction, causing spasm after spasm to rack his feverish body. His nails bit into Wesker's shoulder as his other hand slid round to knot in uncharacteristically dishevelled blond locks.

"Wesker-!" He almost pleaded, voice ragged and his neck straining back again.

" _Albert_." He distantly heard his ex-captain correct him, sounding practically feral with unchecked emotion and desire.

"Albert..." He breathed out, tone significantly softer beneath the desperation as he looked up at him, half-blind with need. Without warning, the fingers were withdrawn from inside him and he clung tighter to his lover. Wesker reached over for the lube and on impulse Chris took it from him, ignoring the raised eyebrow and squeezing a good amount of the clear gel into his palm. Flinging the tube aside, he wrapped his hand around the gloriously thick length of the blond's member. Wesker released a heavy breath and rested his forehead against his shoulder, his hair tickling his neck and bringing a smile to his moist, pink-tinged lips.

After a quiet, stunningly peaceful moment of lavishly palming the blond's member and coating lube over the head as he finished, the latter sat back. Spreading his legs further apart, Wesker took his glistening erection in hand and guided it to the brunette's ready entrance. A burst of apprehension stabbed at Chris' resolve, clarity drifting to the forefront of his mind and his expression turning troubled. They were really going to do this, he thought dazedly, he and Wesker were going to share the most precious, emotionally dangerous intimacy with each other. However, it was much too late to be questioning whether it was really a good idea or not, as Wesker eased inside him; stretching, urging, filling. Chris gasped harshly, his face scrunching up and his eyes clamping closed against the searing ache of penetration.  _So this is what it's like to be on the receiving end_ , he thought deliriously sympathetically.

Wesker pushed in further until he reached his hilt, Chris panting through the pain, and then he stopped. The marksmen mentally fought not to focus on the pain receptors flashing warnings to his brain, hands clenching and unclenching on Wesker's shoulders. He struggled to crack his eyes open and glanced up at Wesker; his ex-captain was arched against him with his head back and eyes half-closed under drawn eyebrows. His lips were parted to emit low, soft murmurs of relief that somehow managed to shoot electricity to Chris' member. The brunette lay entranced at the majestic sight of his lover, nearly overcoming the piercing discomfort in his ass. An all too familiar and yet altogether new feeling of union, connection, togetherness settled over him, mingling with the pain as though in an effort to subdue it. The indescribable sensation of joining with another, barely conscious of where you ended and they began. Raw emotion rose within him, clogging up his throat. He and Wesker were one- _finally_ \- and he immediately dreaded the moment they would have to part.

He moved his hands to the junctions of Wesker's neck, thumbs tenderly brushing against the delicate skin there as he exhaled slowly. His body was gradually adjusting, accommodating for Wesker and his muscles loosened up fractionally in response. The blond eventually lowered his head to dangle between his shoulders and Chris felt a clammy palm come up to cup his cheek, trembling faintly. He let his eyelids fall closed as Wesker raised his head to kiss his jaw, cheek, right temple, the space between his brows, his nose, his mouth.

"Are you alright?" The older man whispered against his lips and he couldn't help but steal another kiss, lingering and inhaling deeply. Everything around him smelled of Wesker and salt and sweat, permeating his senses and he never wanted it to end.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he answered in lowered tones; it wasn't strictly true- his emotions were a storm brewing in his heart and beneath his skin- but physically, the pain had all but subsided, with only a dull soreness remaining. Their lustful eyes met and he gave a brief nod, hands roaming down Wesker's sides to grasp his ass, squeezing a little in wordless prompt. The blond lowered to balance on his forearms either side of Chris, bringing their bodies flush against each other and then pulled his hips back before thrusting forwards again. Chris groaned, tilting his neck back and tightening his grip on Wesker. The blond buried his face in his shoulder, creating an even but moderate rhythm, no longer willing to go painfully slow. They had both waited long enough and Chris didn't want the discomfort dragged out- he wanted to reach the point of mutual satisfaction just as quickly.

He panted audibly, grunting with every other thrust of Wesker's firm hips and zoning in on the sparks of pleasure that sent shudders through his frame. At a particularly hard and well-aimed ram, Chris cried out in bliss, arching up against the blond and urging him to delve deeper with his hands still gripping his ass. His lower half pushed back almost frantically, seeking and gradually finding a synchronised rhythm that had his nerve endings tingling all over and his balls tightening with the beg for release. Wesker quickened his pace, plunging in and out towards Chris' prostate over and over and breathing hotly against his neck and shoulder, tickling him.

"Fuck-  _harder_ -" Chris just about managed to gasp out, all but teetering on the edge of climax and growing delirious. Wesker rose up then and hooked Chris' legs over his shoulders, his movements hasty and subtly uncoordinated. The marksmen's member leaked even more pre-cum onto his stomach at the frenzied yet languid look shining in the blond's hooded eyes. He was like an uncaged animal in heat, pounding into Chris relentlessly and hissing every so often in pleasure. Chris loved every second of it, loved seeing his captain in such an improper, uncontrolled state. No, his ex-captain, he started to remind himself desperately before his thoughts were short-circuited by the feeling of Wesker's fingers curling around his erection and mercilessly jerking him off in tandem with his thrusts. Chris cried out again, louder and needier than before, his eyes rolling back in his head and his teeth tearing at his bottom lip.

"Albert-!" He cut off with a guttural groan as his member pulsed and shot out long strings of cum all over his shaking torso and Wesker's hand. His hands were fisted in the mattress sheet so hard that it hurt and his muscles clamped firmly around Wesker as he rode out his orgasm, pulling a stilted yet unmistakable moan from the usually stoic blond. Wesker buried himself deep inside Chris with a choppy snap of his hips and went stiff, squeezing his bluish eyes shut. Chris sagged down against the pillows as he gazed blissfully up at the blond, feeling the warm fluid splattering the walls of his insides and not caring in the slightest. Countless emotions flickered across Wesker's pinkened features, too fast to pin down as the brunette watched in something akin to rapture.

Visibly trying to catch his breath just as Chris was, the blond blinked his eyes open and looked directly at him, gaze serene and yet still predatory at the same time. Chris smiled lazily, lifting his exhausted arms up to fold underneath his head on the pillows, never breaking eye-contact. He watched sleepily as Wesker eased himself out of him and removed his legs from their purchase on his shoulders. The corners of the blond's lips quirked up in the tell-tale signs of a smug smirk, however there was no mockery in the smile that Chris was actually presented with and his expression softened considerably as Wesker sank down on top of him, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the final entry in the playlist is: Speed of Pain by Marilyn Manson

Chris had been dreaming of speeding along the open road; wind at his back, setting sun in the sky, faithful bike steady and familiar under his carefree steering. He came to blearily, his left arm haphazardly slung over the edge of the bed and the room still dark around him. Weakly, he lifted his head to read the red numbers on his clock. It was 03.51 and his body was so utterly fatigued that he had to wonder at how he was able to wake up at all. He rolled over onto his back and immediately regretted it. His damaged leg was throbbing badly and there was a distinctly uncomfortable stinging down near his lower back. Grumbling to himself in protest, still half-asleep, he turned gingerly onto his other side instead and clutched at the pillow beneath his head.

The bed was a lot warmer than it normally was- stuffy almost- and he'd kicked the covers halfway down his body for much needed air, his bare shoulder exposed to the cool breeze drifting in through his window. He clenched and unclenched his hand a few times in an attempt to rid himself of the pins and needles. The soreness at the base of his spine persisted, preventing him from falling back asleep and he belatedly came to the realisation that it was in fact coming from his ass. He frowned slightly for a moment before his features smoothed out again, fragments of the previous night, or rather a couple of hours ago, flitting up to the forefront of his mind. A hand came to rest on his thigh and he just about refrained from jumping at the sudden touch.

Hesitantly, he relaxed at the circles being lightly massaged into his skin by a calloused yet gentle thumb, slowly opening his eyes. His breath caught at the sight of Wesker lying in  _his_  bed, on his back with his free arm tucked neatly behind his head and the covers draped across his lap. They were pulled down on one side to reveal an elegant hip bone as a result of Chris' kicking and moving around. The blond didn't seem to mind however, looking as though he belonged where he was, as though he had always been there. Chris felt a stab to his heart at the idea, but pushed the melancholy rushing up to greet him back down. He propped himself on an elbow, gazing uncertainly across at the former captain of Racoon City's finest. Wesker's worldly eyes were open, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, but although his expression was empty of emotion, it wasn't closed like it usually was.

"You're awake..."  _And still here_ , Chris added silently, somewhat surprised by how much he had been expecting to wake up in the morning to find Wesker gone without a trace. He knew what their night of passion had meant to himself- that it had been much more than just sex- but there was no telling how Wesker felt about it. Whether it had been a simple release of built up tension and lust or something as meaningful and profound for him as it had been for Chris. Anybody could be a sensual lover without attaching feelings to the act.

The blond hummed non-committally in response to his question, coming out of his thoughts a little. Chris scooted closer on impulse, relishing the feel of Wesker's palm sliding up his thigh to resume its caressing now against his hip. He wanted to lean down and nuzzle the tempting golden skin of the blond's shoulder but he wasn't sure the affectionate gesture would be welcome. The doubts and uncertainty of the situation were minutely tying his stomach in knots, assuaged only by Wesker's hand.

"Can't sleep?" He murmured softly, laying back down and gazing sleepily at the blond's striking features through the dark.

"Difficult to sleep with someone else in the room," Wesker admitted lowly, in a somewhat forced casual tone. "I trained my body to wake up when sensing other peoples presence- too many potential knives coming to slit my throat in my sleep." Chris furrowed his eyebrows, racking his brain for an appropriate response and coming up short. Daringly, he lifted his hand to coax Wesker's face round with his thumb and finger so that he could finally see those ethereal eyes looking deeply into his.

"You could've left..." he pointed out quietly, his dislike of the thought undoubtedly evident on his pale face as he stroked the blond's jaw with the side of his finger. Wesker's eyelids slid to half-mast under the tentative action before he leaned over to press a feather-light kiss to Chris' forehead.

"I considered it," he breathed out honestly, leaning back to meet the brunette's eyes again. Chris had smiled in response to the kiss but his expression turned serious all too quickly, waiting for Wesker to continue. "But the idea was decidedly unappealing." The ghost of his old boyish grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched Wesker's mouth quirk up on one side in return. The blond's nose nudged against his and he nudged back playfully, resting his hand against Wesker's neck where he could feel the calming thump of his pulse.

"Well, since you  _are_  here," Chris began in a deliberate tone, fully regaining his confidence and enjoying the heated amusement that sparked within Wesker's blue-grey eyes. "Need me to tire you out?"

"You think you can?" Wesker taunted with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, gliding his hand down to squeeze Chris' ass. Even as his leg continued to ache along with the rest of his injuries and sore areas, he felt a shot of heat to his member at the prospect of another round of love-making.

"I know I can," he uttered cockily in response to Wesker's challenge, offering a mischievous smile as his deep blue eyes wandered down to the older man's smooth lips. The patches of gauze and bandages taped about their bodies were no doubt in dire need of changing but thoughts of that nature couldn't have been further from his mind as Wesker bodily turned to face him with tired yet intense eyes.

"Prove it." Despite the words, the blond attacked without warning, capturing his parted lips and sending his heart off on a sprint. He gripped Wesker's biceps as he returned the pressure against his mouth, releasing a muffled sigh when the latter's left hand encircled his partially flaccid member and began encouraging it to full hardness. His fingers tightened on Wesker's arm as their greedy tongues clashed again and again, moaning throatily when their members were pressed flush against each other, being stroked simultaneously.

There was an almost painful quality to their actions, so much more desperate than their first joining, or maybe it was just Chris. He would have expected their second time to be slow, gentle, subtle but he found himself aching in an unfamiliar way; a way that had his hand sliding firmly amongst disarrayed blond locks and meshing his lips against Wesker's hard, inhaling deeply and holding as the latter's strong hand pleasured them. Abruptly, Wesker let go of them and gripped the sides of Chris' head, eyebrows pinched as he scanned the brunette's flushed features. Chris was breathing heavily, unable to school away the blatant begging for more from his expression as they stared unflinchingly at each other. Their eyes looked nearly black with their pupils blown wide in animalistic want and Chris' nails scraped against the nape of Wesker's neck as his impatience began to push itself up to the surface.

For a moment, Wesker's eyes squeezed shut as if he couldn't bear the look on Chris' face but before the brunette could question it, Wesker was burying his face in the junction between his neck and his shoulder, mouth claiming every inch of skin found there. Chris sucked in a breath, craning his head back to give his lover better access as his hands hungrily roamed tanned skin, trying not to press too hard against wounds and bruises. It wasn't long before Wesker was pinning him on his back and straddling his waist. While the blond reached over to the table in search of the lube, Chris firmly ran his hands over the older man's abs and pecks, massaging almost and chewing wantonly on his bottom lip.

Wesker squeezed lube onto his fingers, smearing it before bracing his weight on his free hand beside Chris and reaching behind himself. Chris' eyes flew wide, electricity circuiting down to his pulsing member as he watched Wesker squint faintly in the discomfort of penetrating himself with his fingers. Not able to actually see the slick fingers thrusting in and out from his position, his imagination ran wild, fuelling veins already thrumming with adrenaline. Panting, he stared longingly up at Wesker's face, mesmerised by the flurry of emotions flickering across the rose gold features. He couldn't look away from the bluish grey eyes rooting him in place with hooded desire, his hands moving to drag blunt nails up and down muscular thighs.

After they had made love the first time, Chris hadn't cared as much about who was on top, assuming that Wesker's sultry suggestion of taking turns had been nothing but manipulation in order to get what he wanted. Needless to say, watching Wesker prepare himself for him was even more surreal than the fact that they had had sex at all. Even knowing who Wesker really was, what he was, knowing at least a handful of the terrible sins the blond had stapled to his soul, Chris couldn't help but revel in the fact that Wesker wanted him; felt enough for him to willingly open and offer himself up to Chris. He couldn't ignore the way his heart soared, his hand rising to brush his thumb over pink, kiss-swollen lips, resting his palm against a warm cheek. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel what it was like to have-  _truly_  have- this exceptional, yet complexly warped man.

He was broken from his reverie by Wesker's cool, wet hand lathering his straining erection with quick jerks of his wrist and he couldn't hold back the moan that bubbled to his lips. His hands moved to grasp the blond's hips as the latter raised himself up with the clear intention of lowering himself onto Chris' waiting member. Even when being penetrated, Wesker had to be the one on top, in control, Chris thought with a small, knowing smile. The smile swiftly vanished as his mouth hung open at the sensation of hot walls of muscle squeezing the head of his member before the rest followed and he was engulfed.

"Fuck, Wesker," he groaned in a husky voice, fingers biting into the blond's hips as his own bucked once of their own accord, serving to burrow himself deeper and draw out a heated hiss from the man above him.

"Albert," the blond corrected automatically, despite the thick quality of his deep voice and the distinct tension of his body. Chris pushed up onto his hands as he watched Wesker attempting to calm down and relax his muscles. To distract his lover from the pain and himself from the urgent need to move, he took the latter's engorged member in his hand and began to stroke up and down, interchanging between leisurely and relentlessly firm. Eyes narrowed in a predatory mixture of lust and agitation, Wesker clamped a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him into a searing kiss. The brunette hummed, his voice a little higher in pitch than normal as he heartily licked at Wesker's moist tongue, battling for dominance and savouring the taste he could never seem to get enough of. He squeezed Wesker's ass with his hands as the older man tore savagely at his bottom lip, tugging it out roughly before capturing it in the wet cavern of his mouth and sucking.

Chest visibly heaving up and down, Chris returned to palming Wesker's erection, his motion a lot more frantic as he struggled against the urge to start bucking uncontrollably up, in and out of that tight heat encasing his member. As if reading his mind, Wesker pinned him back onto the mattress with two hands flat on his torso and lifted himself up almost to the tip of Chris' member before slamming back down again. The marksmen arched against him with a short cry of ecstasy, hearing the murmured, nearly inaudible salacious noises the blond was emitting and reaffirming the grip on his hips. Wesker didn't ease himself into a rhythm like Chris expected him to, merely began riding him with ardour, regardless of the subtle discomfort the brunette could still see etched upon his features and in the visible jump of his jaw working.

Pleasure rippled through Chris repeatedly as Wesker's body continued to swallow his length over and over, rubbing, stoking the flames in his blood and drawing endless moans and strings of profanity from his mouth. He lifted his head from where it was craning back into the pillows and saw the hooded-eyed smirk Wesker was biting back with his teeth, in response to how crazy Chris was being driven by his firm hips. Giving the blond a cheeky smirk of his own, Chris tightened his grip and snapped his hips up to meet Wesker's.

" _Chris_..." Wesker instantly hissed out, eyes shutting and head falling back. Chris didn't stop, instead rocking up into the blond in a quick but steady rhythm, leaving Wesker with no choice but to adapt to his pace. Although it disappointed him somewhat that the blond was stubbornly managing to stifle all moans and other needy sounds, he enjoyed and took encouragement from the loud panting and the wanton way his fine eyebrows were drawn together. The sound of their flesh, flushed with perspiration, slapping together was incredibly obscene but it only made the display before him that much more erotic.

He rose up on impulse and upended Wesker onto his back as gently as he could in his haste, not wasting a second before guiding himself back into the startled man's tightly hugging warmth; back into paradise. Wesker's fingers dug into his back, strong legs wrapping around his waist as he fisted his hands in the bedsheets either side of his lover's head, pounding into him in wild abandon. Eyes half-lidded, they gazed almost unseeing at one another, sweat beading on their foreheads and mouths open and panting. Picking up speed, Chris leaned down and sloppily kissed Wesker, groaning in triumph when his member hit the blond's sweet spot and sent a violent shudder through the man. The blond arched against him, hands clawing at his back and a stilted moan falling from his lips. Chris aimed for the same spot again and again, loving the delicate contortion of tortured satisfaction that came over Wesker's face.

Feeling his own orgasm close at hand, Chris lifted himself up a bit in order to reach between them and jerk off Wesker's neglected, leaking erection. The blond turned his head to the side, shutting his eyes most likely in an attempt to shield the nakedness of his expression as his nails bit even harder, making certain that he'd leave marks. Chris rammed into him, desperation for reaching his climax fully taking over as his hand palmed the blond mercilessly, drawing a noise from him that was somewhere between a hiss and a groan. Wesker arched his back again, a lot more sharply and keened in evident relief as cum shot out of his member onto his chest and stomach. Chris gasped at the sudden clamping of steely muscle around his raging erection and cried out heartily, going rigid as orgasm crashed over him, causing his nerve-endings to tingle almost painfully and his flesh to shiver with goosebumps.

Gradually, his hand stilled from its milking of Wesker's member, mind teetering on the edge of blissful delirium for a timeless moment before he finally gave into gravity and collapsed unceremoniously on top of the older man. Burying his face in Wesker's shoulder, he exhaustedly pulled his hips back to disconnect their bodies but he stayed lying where he was when Wesker's legs refused to budge from their lock around his waist. He hummed softly as the blond's fingers began skimming up and down his biceps, pressing his mouth to the salty, golden skin of his lover's shoulder and cushioning his neck with a tenderly caressing hand.

As he lay there, drowsily fighting sleep, the aching in his chest slowly crept back up on him, causing him to squeeze his eyes closed and tighten his arms around Wesker. He took up peppering the blond's neck with loving, lingering kisses, not caring how it looked or if it would put the blond off, simply doing it. However, it only seemed to increase the heart ache he was seized by and he stopped after a moment, releasing a long, unsteady breath. The words  _'don't go'_  echoed hauntingly throughout his mind, begging to be spoken aloud but he didn't dare give in; didn't dare put himself even further out into the wilderness than he already had. He tuned into the soothing feeling of Wesker's fingers on his arm, doing his best to quiet his mind and slow his racing heart. He wondered if Wesker could feel it but there wasn't anything he could do about that so he distracted himself by taking in deep lungfuls of the blond's scent, committing it to memory.

"You know," Wesker began in lowered tones, his voice significantly serene and heartbeat thumping steadily against Chris' chest. "You could come with me." Chris opened his eyes in surprise, exhaling slowly and mutely waiting for Wesker to continue. "We could start over far away from here, where nobody knows us." It sounded like wishful thinking, like a pleasant daydream that Chris couldn't help but hope could come true. Even knowing it wasn't so simple, that they couldn't run and hide from the tragic reality life had dealt them, he found himself humouring Wesker's proposition even if for a fleeting moment. He propped himself up on his forearms and met Wesker's tranquil gaze with fond playfulness in his own.

"I could transfer to another precinct," he theorised with the hint of a twinkle in his deep blue eyes. "We'd get a cat or a dog to keep me company when you're away on business and when you'd come home you'd get insanely jealous, having to vie for my attention." He broke off into a quiet chuckle at the droll look and quirked eyebrow Wesker gave him, unable to resist leaning down and bestowing a tender kiss.

"I highly doubt that," Wesker denied once he was free to, looking openly smug. "Whenever I'm in the room you don't see anyone else." Chris pouted faux-sulkily, but he couldn't fight the smile tugging up the corners of his lips.

"Maybe, but ain't that why you keep me around?" The blond's eyes flashed with wicked humour, fingers moving up from Chris' arm to slide into his thick, sweat-dampened hair.

"That and perhaps one other thing..." Wesker let the sentence hang in the air between them, smirking when a short bout of laughter was shocked out of Chris. Once the brunette had managed to compose himself, he grinned down at Wesker in something akin to awe.

"Did  _you_  just make a dick joke?" He asked with good-natured incredulity, getting lost in the smouldering depths of the blond's laughing eyes and taking up caressing the sensitive skin of the latter's neck again.

"It made  _you_  laugh, didn't it?" Wesker batted back pointedly but Chris could read a certain gentleness cloaking the tanned, angular features and he softened in kind.

"That's probably why I love you," Chris murmured with an endearing smile before he could catch himself and bind his tongue. There was a drawn out beat of charged, awkward silence as Chris' face paled, realisation of what he'd just said- what he'd admitted to- struck him dumb. Wesker openly regarded him, his expression at once serious and guarded as heavily as a sealed vault. The blond's fingers had stilled where they had been massaging his scalp, but as he let out a defeated sigh, mentally kicking himself, they slowly, almost cautiously continued in their ministrations. Chris took solace from the subtle gesture, forcing a smile through the angry frustration at himself.

"It's fine, I know you won't say it back- that's not why I said it. I just..." He paused, casting his gaze aside, no longer able to maintain eye-contact. "I think it's about time I stopped pretending I'm not in love with you." He shut his eyes, grimacing against the raw conflict laying waste to his heart.

"You're right. I won't say it," Wesker finally spoke, the words blunt like the man himself, but they were quiet, careful, coaxing Chris partially out of his head and away from the immediate misery. "Words and sentiments of that nature lose all meaning when coming from a man like me. I won't give you empty words that the both of us will regret."

"...Yeah," was all Chris uttered in response, uselessly, numbly. He sensed more than felt himself pulling away, disentangling their humid limbs and moving back up to the head of the bed, perching on the edge. He felt suddenly like a stranger in his own bedroom; he wasn't sure what to do, how to salvage the atmosphere from fast dwindling into something tense and soulless. He rubbed a trembling hand through his bird's nest of hair as he considered simply holing himself up in the bathroom instead, away from the watchful eyes piercing into the side of his head.

Heart well and truly lodged in his throat, he caved and glanced at Wesker, pain lacerating him at the sight he would never again see as anything short of beautiful. On second thought, there were always the couple of beers in his fridge with which he could dull his senses and relinquish the burden of facing the situation head on. However, he quickly doubted he would get very far with the way Wesker was eyeing him. The blond was sitting propped on his hands with his legs stretched out, glaring at him with an unknown emotion not dissimilar to fury simmering beneath the surface. Chris faltered, eyebrows furrowing at the look clearly daring him to desert and leave unfinished the conversation that he himself had started with his thoughtless blunder.

"It's fine," he snapped without meaning to, cutting through the silence like a blunt blade and wishing he hadn't. Wesker narrowed his blue-grey eyes in evident disbelief and he dropped his own to the floor in consternation. "It's as fine as it was ever gonna be," he amended partially under his breath as he wearily closed his eyes, gripping the corner of his side-table fiercely as though in support. He heard an exasperated breath hiss through Wesker's teeth, holding his own breath in preparation to hear what the older man had to say.

"If you don't understand the way I feel about you by now, then you never will." Chris' head whipped up so quickly he almost strained his neck, the agony he felt at Wesker's words vividly etched across his pale features. Wesker's expression was cold and unforgiving but Chris for once could read the barest hint of disappointment and resentment lying beneath, twisting the corners of the blond's mouth down. For a precarious moment, the marksmen felt like he might cry, struggling to swallow thickly against the untempered emotions clogging his throat. He let out a shuddering breath, turning and laying a hand on the blond's ankle, rubbing soothing circles into the skin with his thumb.

"I know. Of course, I know," he told Wesker fervently, voice rough and closer to a whisper than anything else. "Get over here."

"You know I don't take orders, Chris," Wesker returned haughtily, unwilling to make things easy for the brunette after what had just transpired.

"Albert." Wesker's mouth curled into a bitter smile at the name but as Chris gazed at him, forlorn, he released a quiet, stilted sigh and began to crawl up the bed. Chris drew the sprawled blanket up to cover their bodies before nuzzling into Wesker's chest, enjoying the warmth of being swiftly enveloped in the older man's strong arms. "Stay. Please..." he whispered, lips moving on the firm chest he was pressed against. He felt the blond's mouth touch his forehead after a brief pause, long fingers running through his hair.

"Sleep, Chris," Wesker murmured in deep reassuring tones that he clung to like a lifeline. "Sleep." The brunette hummed his agreement languidly, already feeling the dark realm rushing up to greet him. The forgotten remains of his conscience surged up with it, however, seconds before he could succumb.

"This doesn't change what you did..." he breathed out, fast falling even as fragments of unwanted memory darted before his eyelids, stabbing guilt and grief into him like needles.

"We'll talk about it in the morning," came Wesker's solemn reply, already sounding as if from a distance. "We'll sort everything out together, Chris. In the morning."

"In the morning..." Chris echoed, beginning to drift off again. He turned over, snuggling against the taut body that pulled him back tightly against his lover. "...Don't go..." he uttered subconsciously, too close to sleep to realise it. Feather-light kisses were trailed along his shoulder, tucked into his neck, to the hollow beneath his ear. "...Stay with me..." The last thing he remembered was fingers slipping between his and clutching his hand to his chest above his beating heart.

* * *

" _Chris..."_

Chris awoke gradually to the blinding shine of daylight pouring through his window. He groaned faintly, stretching out his sore limbs and stifling a huge yawn with his fist. He reached a seeking hand across the mattress, it falling limp with a dull thud that had his shadowed eyes cracking open.

"Wes-Albert...?" He murmured sleepily into the quiet room, weakly pushing himself up into a sitting position. The muffled sound of his telephone could be heard, sifting through the thin walls of his apartment from the living room. He cast a hazy glance about his room, the temperature seeming to cool minutely against his bare skin as his eyes were met with empty space. Eyes widening and blinking away remnants of sleep, panic spiked through his veins and sent him half-tumbling out of bed and onto his feet. He hopped haphazardly into the pair of checkered pyjama bottoms he found crumpled on the floor and sprang from the room.

Chest heaving with his accelerated breathing, he circled the living area, eyes jumping from the kitchenette to the front door, to the worn sofa and back again. The headache inducing sound of his phone ringing ended abruptly but it didn't do anything to calm his nerves or untie the knots in his stomach. He found his legs carrying him down the hall to the bathroom next and he didn't waste any time pausing to knock. There was no need; the cramped room was vacant like the rest of the apartment.

Shaking with a violent mixture of confusion, despair and anger, he ran back into his bedroom, eyes and hands desperately searching for a clue,  _anything_  to explain Wesker's absence. There was nothing. No forgotten piece of clothing, no sign that Wesker had ever been there-

Chris halted in his frantic derailing thoughts as his gaze landed on a folded envelope lying innocently on his bedside table. He could see the elegant scrawl from where he hovered at the foot of the bed, caught by a sudden jolt of reluctance. He took in a few deep breaths, willing his mind and heart to slow, to recentre, to hold off the whirlwind of hysteria threatening to break him. Pacing forward, he gingerly lowered himself onto his bed and took the recycled envelope into his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, tightening his fingers in an attempt to cease their tremor, until he was at risk of tearing the makeshift note.

He knew what it would say. He  _knew_  and yet he had to read it, had to witness the unwanted words for real. With one last deep inhale he looked down at the note.

_'I don't do goodbyes, Chris._

_I hope you won't stay angry with me for too long, although knowing you, you will._

_Don't ever change._

_A'_

For what seemed like a short eternity, Chris sat perfectly still, staring into oblivion with the envelope scrunched between his fingers. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, but he didn't move; couldn't. He felt drained, like his life force was seeping out of him bit by bit. It was like slowly bleeding to death from an open wound, his mind drifting between white noise and conscious, though incoherent thought. He felt like he was back in the storage closet of that bank, the heist playing out beyond the locked door while he lay bleeding to death, waiting for Wesker to return to him, to keep his promise. The phone in the other room had been ringing almost non-stop, moving in and out of his field of awareness. When it eventually started up again, Chris tore from his comatose-like state and headed out to answer it on a warped whim.

"Wesker?!" His voice sounded strange to his own ears, strained and hollow and frenzied all at the same time.

"Wesker?" A startled familiar voice sent back to him and his fist closed sharply around the note he still clutched at his side. "Chris, where've you been? I was about to come find you! And why were you expecting Wesker? Did you find him? I've been so worried! Don't do that ever again, ya hear?!"

"I'm sorry, Jill. I should've phoned in," Chris heard himself reply mechanically, readying to hang up. "I won't be in today. I'm sorry, I know I said I would, I just..." he trailed off, pressing his closed hand to his mouth to hold back the guttural sob that had been trying to force its way up his throat since he'd found Wesker gone.

"Chris...? What happened?" Jill's voice came through without any of the previous harsh scolding, only kindness and palpable concern. "You don't sound like you're holding up okay, Partner." As much as he appreciated her trying to cheer him up with her teasing lilt, he couldn't bear to even contemplate confiding in anyone right now. In all honesty, he didn't think he ever would. The Albert Wesker he had come to know would forever be a secret locked up in his heart, never to see the light of day.

"I need time...space," he managed to say, struggling to keep his voice even and neutral. "Don't come by, I won't answer."

"But, Chris, I don't-"

" _Please_ , Jill!" He implored, cutting off her protest and hoping she didn't read too far into the crack of his voice. "I need to...rest. To recover...can you understand that, Jill? Please...leave me be, just for a couple days...It's just all too much right now...too fresh in my mind. I...I-"

"Don't say another word, Chris, I can't bear to hear you so torn up," his partner told him softly in her usual maternal tones, even as her voice sounded thick with overwhelming worry over him. "Take as long as you need, Chris. I just needed to know you were safe."

"I am," he confirmed quietly, teeth clenching against the pain that wrought his chest. "I am, Jill. I'm sorry, I...I didn't wanna worry you...I knew you'd worry if I got in touch..." He heard her gulp on the other end, attempting to mask her sniffling.

"I can't help it..." She took a deep breath and he was gripped with remorse for bringing the strong woman to tears. "Okay...okay, Chris. Please stay safe, I can't lose you too."

"You won't," he told her adamantly, some semblance of clarity finally filtering through the damp, dense fog clouding his brain. "We'll speak soon, Jill. I promise."

"Okay," she agreed hesitantly, a long pause stretching out between them. "I'll hold you to it." Before he could think of a reply, the line went dead and he breathed out in dismal relief. He returned the phone to its holder and stood staring at it, unseeing for a vacant moment. A hot rage seized him as his gaze tracked down to the envelope in his hand and he made to tear it into pieces. The paper began to rip between his fingers but something stopped him last minute, preventing him and he threw it to the floor with a heartbreaking cry. He almost wished the tears stinging the backs of his eyes would just fall already; but they wouldn't, they stayed bottled up within him, ensuring an enduring torture worse than death.

_'I haven't thanked you for saving my life-'_

_'I feel indebted to you-'_

_'You still with me, Chris?'_

_'I will tell you-'_

_'Stay with me-'_

_'I've always been with Umbrella-'_

_'You were real, Chris-'_

_'You always make yourself an easy target, Chris-'_

_'I bet you're loving this, eh, Chris?'_

_'It was you, Chris. I might have been the one manipulating you, but that doesn't mean I wasn't open to your influence-'_

_'It_ is _in front of me, Chris. Between us-'_

_'My point is, Chris, that I kept my word. I came back for you-'_

_'I couldn't leave you out cold and utterly defenceless-'_

_'Don't you think we need to talk about this?'_

_'I_ was _protecting_ you- _'_

_'Be honest with yourself, Chris-'_

_'Then it doesn't change your feelings for me either. Does it?'_

_'I'm not like you, Chris-'_

_'Just accept it, Chris, accept the way you feel and come to terms with it-'_

_'My parting gift to you-'_

_'You really are something else, Chris-'_

_'Don't worry, Chris-'_

_'You could come with me-'_

_'I won't say it-'_

_'If you don't understand the way I feel about you by now, then you never will-'_

_'Sleep, Chris-'_

_'We'll sort everything out together, Chris. In the morning-'_

_'In the morning-'_

_'In the morning-'_

_'In the morning-'_

_'_ Chris _...'_

The brunette slumped to the ground, grasping handfuls of his hair and leaning his head back against the sofa. The shock of Wesker being gone was excruciating in as much as it shouldn't have shocked him at all.  _Of course you wouldn't stay. That would've been asking too much, wouldn't it?_ After long extended minutes, he released a sigh, dropping his hands to the floor at his sides and gazing across at the discarded sorry excuse for a goodbye. He felt dead inside, all energy sucked out of him as his heart started to harden until it resembled nothing but a husk.

The worst part of it, he gradually realised was that he couldn't hold it against Wesker, not truly. The elusive man hadn't answered his request for him to stay, hadn't made any promises he didn't intend to keep. He couldn't even blame Wesker for showing up on his doorstep- he'd been the one to let him in. It had been his decision to make and he refused to allow himself to regret it. It couldn't ever be undone now and even if it could be, he wouldn't want to. The night they'd shared had been special in its own messed up way.

Despite knowing that he could never go with him, be with him while he continued to run from the repercussions of his crimes, they had both needed to fuse that last neglected connection between them. Having already brought their feelings out into the open somewhat with thinly veiled words and implications, Chris couldn't bear to leave them hanging trapped in the air between them. He needed to act on them, to free them from the cage of his heart even if only temporarily. It had been worth it, he told himself strictly, focusing on the tiny morsel of peace laying beneath the turmoil attempting to completely smother his senses.

He could get through this. He knew he could because once you'd survived a nightmare such as the mansion incident with all the horror, dark revelations and betrayals it had entailed, you knew you could survive anything. The pain might dissolve away with time or it might last forever but either way, he knew he could manage its power over him. He could already sense his heart and mind battling to compartmentalise it away and he knew that one day he would wake up and find he had succeeded; have all the memories of Wesker and the emotions tied to them buried so far down in the fathomless pit of his soul that he could begin to heal and eventually move on. He really believed that; he had to.

For now however, he needed to physically separate himself from the situation. He couldn't stay here, in this apartment where the spectre of Wesker so heavily lingered. Pushing himself up from his collapsed state, he retrieved his telephone, studiously ignoring the note on the floor. He absently dialled the numbers, seeking sanctuary in the distraction of the beeping tone that assaulted his ears.

"Chris! It's about time, I was just gonna call!"

"Hi, Claire," he began, disliking the vaguely monotonous element to his voice but pushing on regardless. "Listen, I've been thinking. I'm long overdue for some time off and..."

* * *

Epilogue

_~Five Months Later~_

Out in the middle of the Southern ocean, beneath the cover of nightfall, Chris Redfield slowly climbed his way up the side of the slippery, wet rock face of a prison island. He'd received the coordinates from Leon S. Kennedy, a survivor of the late Racoon City and good friend of his sister's. Claire was here somewhere, taken prisoner by Umbrella's security operatives and fighting to stay alive amidst yet another outbreak, or so he'd been informed. If he knew his sister though, she could take care of herself and he had faith in that knowledge. It helped to keep him calm and level-headed.

STARS issued combat gear thoroughly soaked and fingers dripping, his hand slipped, failing to gain its next purchase as the rock crumbled away. Heart skipping a beat and leaping into his mouth, he clung on for dear life with his other hand as his body fell backwards precariously, supply bag gliding effortlessly down off his arm and disappearing into the abyss of tempestuous waves below.  _Damnit!_ He lamented the loss with only a fraction of relief that he himself hadn't followed suit. He'd spent valuable time packing that bag before he left, he silently seethed as he continued his climb. He could only be glad that his combat knife and Glock 17 wasn't in it and instead on his person.

Finally reaching the top, he swung up to his feet, sweat mingling with the rain and sea water that trickled down his temples.

"Don't worry, Claire," he muttered resolutely under his breath, reaching for his knife and starting his trek into the unknown. "I'm coming to save you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a real pleasure to write this pairing and try to restore some life and love for them. I feel like Chresker has been abandoned *closes eyes sadly* but I'm glad to be a part of the fandom who still cherish these two :)
> 
> I'm sorry the ending was bittersweet but unfortunately it seems to fit this pairing all too well. I hope you enjoyed it anyway and weren't too disappointed with it being open ended.


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